


I Want You To Stay

by NikNak22



Series: I Will Always Choose You [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, Andrew Minyard Loves Neil Josten, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Demisexual Neil Josten, Exy (All For The Game), Growing, Hurt Andrew Minyard, Hurt Neil Josten, M/M, Misunderstandings, Neil Josten loves Andrew Minyard, Oblivious Neil Josten, POV Andrew Minyard, Post-Canon, Protective Andrew Minyard, Smut, So much angst, Soft Andrew Minyard, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, communication is key, no beta we die like men, not a breakup fic, slow burn angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 97,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28508778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikNak22/pseuds/NikNak22
Summary: There's something off about Neil.  Andrew's noticed, but he can't tell what's wrong - doesn't even know where to start.  And besides, it's not the only thing on his mind. His turbulent relationship with his brother, and plans for the future after college are suddenly looming large as he begins his fourth year.  Neil will simply have to tell him if something's bothering him.  After all, he promised not to lie to Andrew anymore.  Not after everything that they've been through.  Not after Andrew told Neil to stay.He will tell him if something's wrong.  Won't he?
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Kevin Day & Andrew Minyard, Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick/Erik Klose
Series: I Will Always Choose You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087217
Comments: 450
Kudos: 588





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Loveys! Welcome to Part 2 of my series, [I Will Always Choose You](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087217)! This is a companion and reflection of the work [I Hope You Lie To Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27422608) from Andrew's perspective, with a couple new tidbits thrown in! While I think you'll find this a complete story on its own, I would highly recommend reading Part 1 first, if you haven't had the chance. It will make this work even more fun. (Although "fun" is a relative word with all this Angst™ LOL). For those of you who have already read Part 1- thrilled to have you back!! Thank you so much for returning! 😍💕
> 
> Bringing a little RiRi into the mix, as the title is based on her song, "Stay" ft. Mikky Ekko. I think I'll be updating this guy similar to Part 1, and do Mondays/Fridays. (To the best of my ability!)
> 
> Now as a quick heads up, for this entire work I have done my absolute best to capture Andrew's character in canon, but I have also pushed the boundaries a little from my own perspective a.) to address some unfinished business from the series and b.) to push for a little character growth. I am not the lovely Nora, however, so if some of this seems a little OOC to you, that is by all means understandable. It is just my take and I hope you will enjoy it for the honest attempt it is! 
> 
> I'll be providing triggers/warnings per chapter but in general this is definitely an explicit work with some nsfw moments (but not many). There's also moments of implied/referenced rape/non-consent from canon, some graphic violence, and homophobic/vulgar language. Again, I'll be sure to give the heads up when those come along! 
> 
> So yeah....that's all I got, folks! Check it out, and I do hope you'll enjoy! 😁
> 
> All copyright rights to the characters, dialogue, and canon events belong solely to Nora Sakavic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We begin our story with the Monsters departing from Fox Tower for a night out at Eden's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: small moment of implied references to rape/non-consent events from canon. Happens at the bar shortly after texting occurs. Texting is also graphic/explicit. Also there's some bantering on the consumption of alcohol that could be a trigger for some. (Alcoholism is a disease and should absolutely be treated as such. If you need it, please do not be afraid to get help!)
> 
> EDIT: I totally forgot to add the next chapter's preview! DOH! 😅 Added in End Notes below!

Andrew stares into the full-length mirror on the back of their bedroom door. He’s late. The others have already changed and are waiting for him in the living room. This doesn’t faze him though; they can wait.

It’s the usual Saturday night routine. Their group is hitting the road, starting with dinner at Sweetie’s, followed by drinking and dancing at Eden’s, and ending with the house in Columbia. It’s the same pattern, week after week; a ritual that by all rights Andrew should be bored of. And maybe he is because nowadays he finds himself wishing the nights would go by faster, so that he can get to the end. Where his bedroom in Columbia waits. Where a certain redhead sometimes joins him.

Andrew rubs a hand over his face, pulling at dark circles under tired eyes. The man in the glass sighs. 

He turns towards the dresser. Andrew pulls out his clothes methodically, placing them on the bed, fingers rubbing the soft fabrics soothingly. He checks the door is locked again for the third time before he finally starts undressing. Across the room, his image follows. 

Neil hates this looking glass. He avoids it like the plague. But to Andrew it’s just a reflection, a perspective of what others see. He stares at his pale, pale skin and flaxen hair, almost translucent in the right light, juxtaposed against the darkness of his clothing behind him. He thinks of faded, white scars hidden under black armbands. It’s ink on paper, or ash on bone. It’s oil spilling onto what once was pure. 

He won’t let smeared fingerprints drag him down tonight. 

Andrew lives in black and white. A double-sided coin, opposites, all or nothing. It’s about constantly making a call and living with it. Some would find this brutal or short-sighted, but it’s the reality of what Andrew has always known. What he’s always been forced to deal with. 

He is a blank canvas, the beginning of nothing. The absence of nothing. (And isn’t that ironically true without Neil?)

When he wears black, that nothingness becomes a black hole, a cosmic phenomenon with a gravitational pull so strong that it destroys everything around it. 

On most days, this makes sense to Andrew. First there was nothing, then there was destruction. He’s been destroyed so many times that when he looks in the mirror, all he sees are broken pieces smashed together to form something not quite whole. 

He stares at his reflection now and swears he can make out the jagged lines of them. It’s no wonder that others bleed if they get too close.

By all accounts, Neil should be torn to ribbons by now. 

He rolls his biceps and shoulders, seeing muscles shift and flex in response. He recalls watching them grow and develop, stretching his skin, the result of steady meals and access to free weights in juvie. His shirts grew tighter, and others’ eyes grew wary as his stature built. He began to fight for his own. 

Never again would Andrew allow himself to be prey. 

He lifts his black, long-sleeved Henley over his head, and pulls on tight, ripped black jeans. They remind him of the time he spent his whole paycheck on clothes at the Columbia mall. Nicky had insisted on it, cooing and fussing at how good everything looked. It was the first time he’d had new clothes that belonged wholly to him. It was also the first time he felt safe enough to spend the money. That he didn’t have to worry whether he should hold some back just in case, to make sure he could eat.

He hid the items under his bed for weeks before he finally realized no one was going to take them from him. 

A knock on the door startles him for a second. “Andrew, come on! Let’s go! Hurry up!”

Andrew doesn’t bother responding. He only has to wait a moment before Aaron huffs and walks off. Finishing with the fly on his jeans, he turns towards the closet. Digging through it, he pulls a pair of shitkickers out and kneels down to tie them. 

The first time he saw some was at Eden’s, when a patron walked up to the bar that had others scurrying back. The man had black doc martens, bruised knuckles, and an air of confidence that was mesmerizing. Andrew immediately wanted that. To have others react to him as if he were something dangerous, powerful, and in control. A force to be reckoned with. He’d saved for months to get his first pair, and never looked back. 

Returning to the mirror, he grabs a small jar of wax from the top of the dresser and starts running fingers through his hair. 

He remembers stealing Aaron’s hair gel and locking himself in the bathroom for hours at Tilda’s place. He would fiddle with his hair, molding it this way and that, trying to copy styles he’d seen in magazines. When he failed, he’d wash the evidence away in a cold shower, feeling frustrated and stupid and his scalp burning. On the day he’d finally got it right, he’d worn his best jeans and treated himself to a sundae at the local diner all on his own. The waitress had called him handsome, gave him extra sprinkles, and refused to take his money. He’d left it anyway.

But it was the first time someone had given him a compliment without expecting anything in return. 

Another rap on the door. “Andrew!” Kevin calls this time. “What the hell is taking so long?”

“Shut up and leave him alone,” snaps Neil from farther away. “He’ll come out when he’s ready.”

“Oh, I’d say he already did,” Nicky teases, then grumbles when his joke falls flat. 

“Well preferably I’d like to leave _before_ the bar shuts down, if that works for you, _Neil_.”

“You don’t need to _be_ at the bar to get alcohol poisoning, _Kevin_. You seem to find a way regardless of where we are.”

There’s a pause before Kevin asks suspiciously, “Wait, are you the one who keeps hiding my vodka bottles, Josten?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Day.”

Andrew rolls his eyes as the two continue to bicker. 

Finally, he grabs a fresh pair of armbands from a drawer, throwing his current pair in the laundry basket before he sprays on cologne. 

It had been like a bolt of lightning the first time he’d seen them. He was watching TV and some stupid football team had come on, the reporters covering a story about their upcoming season at a training camp. He was half-heartedly observing their drills when he spotted a guy in the back wearing dark arm sleeves that covered his forearms down to his wrist. He was obviously using them to keep his arms warm, but Andrew had been struck by the sight. The next day, he popped into his local sports store and found some, purchasing three on the spot. He put one pair on in the car and felt like an invisible shield had been raised, the final piece of his armor slotting into place. 

He finishes and stares one last time at himself in the mirror. There he is. Andrew Joseph Minyard. A corpse stitched together with black thread. Black on white. It would have to be enough for tonight. 

Andrew unlocks the door and steps out into the living room. 

“Finally!” Aaron snaps. “Christ, Andrew, you’re worse than a girl sometimes.”

Andrew ignores this jibe and stares at his brother. He’s wearing dark blue jeans, with a navy-blue top. It looks good on him, the dark blue color highlighting his blonde hair. Aaron has been wearing more and more of the color lately, no doubt an influence of the cheerleader. 

“Aww, leave him be, Aaron, he’s gotta look good for his boyfriend,” Nicky coos, ignoring the murderous glares Neil and Andrew send him. “Besides, you took twice as long last week before you went on your date with Katelyn.”

He quickly dodges the swing Aaron takes at him.

Nicky is in a flattering maroon, the dark red color highlighting his brown skin and dark hair nicely. He also wears black jeans, though his are coupled with shiny, pointed toe black boots. Fashionable, as are the cords wrapped around his wrists and throat. Andrew suspects there might even be highlighter on his cheeks, but it’s pretty subtle. For Nicky, anyway.

“Who cares what he looks like, the night is half gone already,” Kevin complains. “We’re barely going to get there before last call.”

Kevin is wearing emerald green, like the isles his ancestors came from. The color highlights his eyes and looks unfairly flattering against the ebony strands of his hair. As usual, he could be mistaken for a cover model if he just kept his damn mouth shut. He also has nonchalantly rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing the muscles in his forearms. 

It is absolutely not attractive. Not at all. Just ask Andrew.

“When you have a car, you can choose when to leave, Kevin. Until then, shut the fuck up,” Neil retorts.

He turns to stare at Andrew, his eyes softening. Andrew knows Neil didn’t dress himself- that Nicky likely whipped this outfit together for him. But it doesn’t stop Andrew from appreciating the teal color of Neil’s shirt, that looks so good with his auburn hair and tan skin. And his jeans. Andrew swallows. They’re so tight and ripped in all the right places that Andrew just wants to drag him back into the bedroom, fling them off, and tell the others to fuck off for the night. 

Blue, red, green, teal. Colors swirl in the back of his mind. A color for each of them, Andrew realizes. But they suit them. They’re flattering and expressive and simply _more_. 

Andrew looks down at his own outfit. He only wears black. It’s complimentary and easy to match, but he knows these aren’t the reasons he wears it. (Or not the main ones anyway). He only ever wears black because it’s all he can. 

Andrew is not suited for colors. 

He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he tells the group, “We’re leaving.”

\---

Soft, white light from the streetlamp threads through Neil’s hair in the dark alley, glancing off his left shoulder and catching in the folds of his shirt. Andrew spots only the briefest glimpse of white teeth as Neil raises the cigarette to his lips to breathe life into it once more. Then he leans back against the brick wall and exhales smoke towards the pale moon above. 

_Ivory_ , Andrew thinks. The color is neutral, clean, and dull. Yet there's a hint of warmth to it. Like the down feathers he pulls from Kevin's pillow. Or the buttercream frosting he licks off of Abby's cakes. Like the breath he’s forced each day to draw through his lungs. 

Neil's head turns slightly, catching his eye. The redhead lifts a single brow.

Andrew forces himself to look away.

He's been staring again. Staring like he hasn’t since Neil first arrived in Palmetto and Andrew annoyingly couldn’t tear his eyes away from him. Usually this is Neil’s job, but Andrew can’t seem to help himself tonight. There is a persistent itch in his fingers that won't go away. It makes him want to run his hand through the locks of Neil’s hair, feel the flex of his forearm, slide fingers over the bare inch of skin where his shirt has ridden up. 

It's maddening.

Andrew doesn’t know where these urges are coming from, but they’ve been happening more and more as of late. Especially when they’re in public. At first, they’d been fleeting fancies that Andrew could push off with no more than a single thought. But lately, they spring up stubbornly like weeds, white dandelion wishes popping up everywhere. No matter how many Andrew rips out, another takes its place. He simply can’t keep up. 

And this is dangerous. Because lately, he doesn’t want to try.

This desire confuses him because these touches are innocent. They’re nothing like the intimate ones they share behind locked doors, where he can touch Neil wherever he likes as long as Neil agrees to it. He shouldn’t crave them just as much - shouldn't even be considering them. They’re irritating, frustrating, and unnecessary.

Andrew takes another drag of his cigarette and huffs. 

Neil catches onto it instantly. 

His eyebrows draw together as he tilts his head. “Okay?” he asks. 

Andrew nods. He doesn’t ask the question back because he can see Neil looks better already. 

When they arrived at Eden’s, the place had been packed. People were spilling out of doorways like the guts of an overstuffed sausage. Andrew had to throw a few elbows and knock a few shoulders aside to even make his way past the entrance.

He could tell instantly that Neil didn’t like it. His eyes were skittish, racing along the corners of the walls and finding the exits as Andrew fought his way towards a table. At first Andrew shrugged it off. They were going to be there for a while; nothing he could do about it. 

But after watching Neil hover on the edge of his seat for hours, his back hunched over and his knee bouncing under the table constantly, Andrew had finally had enough. 

He left the rest of his family at the table and dragged his rabbit outside, watching his shoulders relax fractionally. 

Now, after having a cigarette or two, he seems calmer. Andrew nods, satisfied. They’ll likely be here for another hour or so, but he thinks Neil can last until then. 

He crushes the stub of his cigarette under his boot and jerks his head at Neil. “Come on.”

Neil hurriedly follows suit, but ducks down to grab Andrew’s cigarette butt along with his own and tosses them in the receptable outside. Andrew rolls his eyes and decides not to hold the door open any longer, hearing Neil’s breathless laugh as he just manages to catch it and slip inside, following him. 

They make their way back to the table. Upon spotting the empty drink tray, Neil immediately grabs it and heads off to the bar without being asked. Andrew ignores the pleased feeling in his gut as he sits down. 

He disregards everyone around them, barely noticing when the others return from the dance floor except for the overwhelming smell of sweat and alcohol that they bring with them. Andrew wrinkles his nose in distaste. Though Neil returns with new drinks shortly, immediately Nicky starts begging for more.

“Fuck off,” Neil snaps back at him, eyes flashing coolly. 

But Nicky is nothing if not a determined drunk. “Andrew? Cousin mine?”

Andrew pins his cousin with a glare, intent on ignoring him. But then he looks at Neil. His hair is sticking up in tufts in places, due to the heat and humidity summer has steamrolled them with. His clothes are ruffled from darting in and out of this massive crowd, and he has several stains from spilled drinks that weren’t there before. 

Neil crosses his arms over his chest as he scowls back at Andrew. “I’ve been getting them all night. It’s your turn.”

There’s a hint of a whine in there, something that almost makes Andrew stubborn enough to refuse on principle. But Neil rarely complains. It’s a testament to just how uncomfortable he is, how much he’s put up with tonight already for the rest of them. 

Andrew sneaks a glance at Kevin as a last resort, wondering if he can bully the man into carrying a tray. But Kevin is already halfway into a stupor, completely useless to anyone. He sighs. 

Then he stands and grabs the empty glasses and drink tray as he ignores the shock worming its way up Neil’s face, shining in his stunning blue eyes. 

Damn those eyes. 

He weaves his way through the crowd and sidles up to the bar. 

“Andrew!” Roland grins, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. “Fancy stepping behind the counter tonight, for old times’ sake? We could use another hand.”

“Not a fucking chance in hell,” Andrew says, which has Roland throwing his head back and laughing. “Just get me my drinks and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You always did,” Roland winks before he starts whipping stuff together. 

Andrew rolls his eyes and slinks back against the wall next to the bar, content to wait. He pulls out his phone to pass the time. Only a few seconds have passed before a new text message pops up. Andrew narrows his eyes as he opens it. 

**Neil:** Hot blonde standing by the bar. Maybe I should talk to him. Get his number.

Andrew huffs, his lips twitching before he has the chance to stop himself. Idiot. He types back quickly.

**Andrew** : You wouldn’t know where to start. 

He glances up just in time to catch Neil’s grin as he receives the message. His eyes are alight, his posture finally relaxed for the first time since they arrived. His thumbs rapidly tap away, so Andrew isn’t surprised when he sees another message immediately pop up. They start texting back and forth.

**Neil:** How would you know? I’ve been told I’m fairly attractive. I bet I could make a move. 

**Andrew:** Go ahead. Let him listen to you drone on about Exy and see where that gets you. 

**Neil:** Mmm I bet he’ll love it. Especially when I tell him how good I am with my hands. 

**Andrew:** He’ll realize you’re an idiot the moment you open your mouth. 

**Neil:** Or maybe he’ll start thinking about what I could do with my mouth.

 **Andrew:** Tell lies?

Andrew rolls his eyes as he sends the last message, but he can’t stop the edge of his mouth from quirking. They've only started trying this recently, and already it seems to be going easier then Andrew thought it would. He supposes that, if he really thinks about it, the medium makes sense- texting provides a way to instantly satisfy Neil's quick mouth, while still maintaining Andrew's need for distance. A safe space to trial and work things through. It makes these exchanges easier and, sometimes, more amusing. 

Of course, it all depends on whether Neil decides to charge his phone. Which is rare. But at least it's a start.

His phone pings again.

**Neil** : No. 

But then three dots appear as Neil continues typing. Andrew waits with a smirk, already betting on what sassy remark Neil is going to return with. Then the actual message appears.

**Neil:** How he could push me to my knees and shove his dick down my throat. Thrust his fingers into my hair and pull hard. Have me beg for it. I’ve wanted him to ever since we got here.

Andrew hardens immediately. It’s actually embarrassing how quickly he responds, his heartbeat growing louder, and his eyes widening as he whips his head up to stare at Neil through the crowd. The little shit is smirking at him, pleased at what he knows his words have caused. 

Well, Andrew will have to fix that. Perhaps as soon as he gets back to the table. Or perhaps even before. He’ll drop off the tray of drinks and then sneak into the back. He’ll shove the door of the employee bathroom open where he’ll find Neil waiting, on his knees, his hands clasped behind his back. Andrew will zip down his fly, dig his fingers into Neil’s hair, and pause just before he can slide into Neil’s hot, open mouth. 

He’ll be happy to make his cheeky striker beg for it. 

He snaps his gaze back to his phone and begins describing the scenario, playing along with Neil's game. He knows exactly how hot and bothered it's about to make them both but the opportunity to tease Neil is something Andrew can't- 

Something suddenly slams into him, lurching him to the side. His free hand flies out instinctively, latching onto the bar top, which is the only thing that prevents him from tumbling to the floor. 

“Ohhhhh mannnn!! ‘m so sorry, you okay?” The drunk who knocked into him slurs.

Andrew hears the words, but he can’t seem to say anything. He’s stuck, any noise in his throat dying immediately. He’s aroused but he’s been pushed, knocked into. The ghosts of Drake’s hands are grazing him, groping at his body, telling him to _turn over_ , that _it’s okay to like it_ , that _he knows he wants it_. He’s nauseous, choking as he tries to get breath into his lungs. 

“Whoooaaaa, cause you look okay. Damn, you look- you look fine actu’lly. What’s your number, cutie?”

The voice sounds like it’s far away, like they’re standing at the other end of a tunnel where Andrew can’t see them. His instincts are screaming for him to fight, to whip out his knives on the guy and draw blood but he can’t seem to move. His body is betraying him. He’s paralyzed and it frustrates him even further. 

“Shut up and leave him alone, man! He’s clearly not into it.”

Suddenly the drunk is being pushed off to the side by another guy. He’s taller than Andrew, with dark hair and a five o’clock shadow. He wears a fierce scowl on his face as he shoves the drunk, his eyes piercing. Andrew takes in his fit form, the well-defined, tattooed arms and smooth stomach shown off by his tight, black shirt. He catches a scent of something dark and rich that takes a moment to place, but then he realizes it’s the man’s cologne. 

It’s intoxicating. 

Then Andrew notices the metal in his ears, eyebrow, and lip. He’d be willing to bet he had piercings in other places too. 

Andrew swallows as the guy finally turns to him. He’s stepped back a couple steps, giving Andrew space, which he grudgingly appreciates. “Hey man, are you all right? Did that jackass do anything?”

Fuck. Everything about this feels wrong to Andrew right now. He’d been doing some harmless fantasizing with Neil, and then that asshole had plowed into him, making him seize up like he was eight years old again. Now his libido is doing flips for some nameless fuckboy with a hero complex. Apparently, his mind just can’t keep up with the shit his body is pulling tonight. 

Struggling still to speak, he nods once at the guy, and hopes that’s enough to get rid of him. He vaguely hears Roland tap the bar behind him, signaling that his drinks are done. 

Andrew turns around. For a moment, things seem to crawl to a halt. He watches Roland slowly wipe down the bar with a cream-colored rag, splotches of red soaking into the fabric as he cleans up after a spilled wineglass. There's a shrill voice, and loud, high-pitched laughter coming from nearby. Above him the strobe lights continue to pulse to a thick, heavy beat that matches the sickening thud in Andrew's chest. It makes him feel light-headed and his stomach twist. 

He closes his eyes briefly, and takes a deep breath to steady himself as he grabs onto the tray. Then he stands up straight, steels his shoulders, and turns back. The man still hasn’t left. Andrew narrows his eyes, glaring at him. 

The guy just laughs, stepping back and holding up his hands while a very attractive grin lights up his face. 

Andrew takes three swift steps away from him. That’s when he runs into Neil. 

He’s breathing hard, sweat streaking down his face. He’d clearly been fighting through the crowd to make his way to Andrew’s side. _Just not fast enough_ , Andrew thinks bitterly, before he shakes his head internally. None of this is Neil’s fault. 

“Are you okay?” Neil asks quietly, searching Andrew’s face. 

He can’t do this right now. Things are too precarious, too shaky for Andrew to have to deal with whatever Neil is feeling also. So he doesn’t bother responding, moving around Neil and heading back towards the table. 

When he arrives, he flings the tray down with little care as to whether the drinks make it safely. 

“What the hell?” his twin lurches forward, grabbing onto the nearest shot glass and tossing it back as if it’s water. Kevin and Nicky rapidly follow. Andrew ignores them as he shoves himself back into his seat. His hands are fisted in his lap, nails biting into his palms nearly hard enough to draw blood. He stares at the soft white, half-moon indents sharp against the redness of the surrounding skin.

The sound of someone clearing their throat breaks through his reverie. When he looks up, he notices Nicky aiming a wicked grin at him. Instantly he knows his cousin is going to say something stupid. 

“Ooh are you mad, Andrew, because that hottie at the bar saved you?”

Yep. He was right. 

“Shut the fuck up, Nicky,” Neil glares at the man, shooting Andrew a worried glance. 

“Because he was fine as hell, Andrew. Just your type.”

Andrew stifles a sick shudder, using all his willpower to stop himself from knocking his cousin’s teeth out. “Shut the fuck up, Nicky,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. 

Kevin inches away from him.

But of course Nicky doesn’t shut up, staring back down towards the bar as if he can still see the guy. Maybe he can. Andrew doesn’t give a shit. “Tall, dark and handsome. Those eyes, those hands- what I’d ask that boy to do with them. And that lip piercing! Damn, tell me you saw that, Andrew.”

Andrew is about to open his mouth and tell Nicky he can go to hell when Aaron curls his lip. “Jesus, that’s disgusting,” he groans. 

Andrew studies his brother. It’s not like the comment was particularly gratuitous- they’ve heard much worse come out of Nicky’s mouth before. Maybe that’s why the derision stings. Aaron has known Nicky and Andrew are gay for years now, and yet still his reactions to any comments about their sexuality remain the same. While Andrew doesn’t care, he’s aware of how disheartening it can be for Nicky. How he’s had to put up with this bullshit from his own family all his life. 

So while Andrew is feeling the furthest thing from flirtatious at the moment, he manages to eke out a response, purposefully contrary towards his brother’s contempt. “I’m gay, Nicky, not blind.”

The reaction is a bit more than he expected. Kevin whips his head towards Andrew, his eyebrows shooting up comically towards his hair. Aaron practically spits out his drink before he pretends to retch under the table. And Neil freezes, his eyes widening fractionally at the simple statement. 

Andrew frowns a bit at this, but Nicky draws his attention once more. “Yes! Preach, my dear cousin! You hear that, bitches? Can’t stop the gay love tonight! _Oh,_ _can you feel the homos tonight_?”

He’s warbling, singing so dreadfully off-key that Kevin forces another shot down his throat just to get him to stop. But even this mild attempt at waterboarding doesn’t stop the look of sheer delight Nicky has on his face. 

Perhaps Andrew should agree with him more often. If only to spite Aaron.

Then again, if Nicky decides to sing each time, Andrew may never agree with him again. 

His cousin’s cheerfulness never wanes as they end their night. It’s beyond time that they get the hell out of there, and Andrew knows Neil feels the same. He’s next to Andrew’s side the minute he gets up, and holds his hand out, an obvious offer to take the keys. But he doesn’t ask. Andrew is grateful for this because then all he has to do is shake his head and Neil gets it. 

He gets it, but it also frustrates Andrew, making him feel disgusted with himself. This night is not ending how he wanted it to. 

He’d wanted, maybe, to hold Neil in his arms. To try it for once. He has a stupid, pathetic desire to see if he can curl up and fall asleep with him. To see Neil's chest softly rising and falling in the morning sunlight. To taste where his neck meets his collarbone and sink his teeth into the lithe muscle of his inner thigh, in the warmth of Andrew’s bed. 

Now, because of the fucking joke that is Andrew’s life, he’ll have none of these things. 

When they reach the house, he slams open the front door and makes his way upstairs immediately. He trusts that Neil will take care of the others.

He locks his bedroom door before stripping off his clothes and entering the ensuite bathroom. He locks that door as well. Then he turns on the shower and waits until the water is nearly scalding hot. He scrubs his entire body until his skin is pink and feels raw. Then he pulls on his softest pajamas. Each step soothes him, makes him feel a bit calmer. 

When he exits, he tosses his clothes into the hamper and stares at the sea of black inside, intermixed with one or two pops of color. Clearly things that Neil has worn.

He pulls one out, a soft V-neck in dark purple. It’s one of the ones Andrew had given him. He can recall the store it came from, remembers it catching his eye on a shelf near the back. He rubs his fingers against the collar. 

He wonders why he can pick things out like this for Neil but doesn’t allow them for himself. He wonders whether once he defines himself, is he only ever allowed to be that person, or can he become something more?

Or does becoming something more mean everything around him has to change with it? 

Andrew shakes his head, throwing the shirt back into the hamper and closing it sharply. He’s being stupid. This whole night is stupid. The faster it’s over, the faster he can put it behind him.

He stalks over to the window and throws it open, letting the heat and humidity blast him in the face. He sits on the windowsill and pulls out his pack of cigarettes, lighting the first one up. 

It’s only after he’s taken the second one out and lit it, that he recalls Neil isn’t there. 

Andrew sighs. 

He watches the smoke curl upwards from the extra cigarette between his fingers and waits for the sun to rise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anddddd here we go again! 
> 
> Andrew: *litters*  
> Neil: *saves the earth*  
> Me: Thank you Neil, you sweet precious babe 😭😍
> 
> Also me: *takes three showers after writing the grossness that is Drake* 🤢🤮🤬
> 
> It's my small hc that Andrew claimed the master bedroom as soon as they moved into the house in Columbia, brooking no arguments. And Nicky/Aaron were so pissed at him because they thought he was just being a shit until they realized...later...why Andrew would want to have a bathroom in the bedroom. Behind two locked doors. 😢
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!! Let me know what you think- love to hear from you all! ❤
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> “How is Neil?” she asks. 
> 
> Andrew glances back at him. The redhead is thoroughly immersed in his Spanish homework, his back hunched over his desk in a way that Andrew knows he’ll be sore from later. He probably won’t even notice Andrew is gone. 
> 
> “Hmm,” is all the answer Andrew gives.
> 
> He turns off the stove and shuffles towards the door, slipping on his adidas sandals. He grabs his keys and slips out of the suite, heading down the stairs. 
> 
> “Is something wrong?” Renee asks now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew tries to figure out what's for dinner, and the guys have a late-night practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: small reference to guns (used in a metaphor), and one-liner on addictions.

Andrew rolls onto his back and stares at the dorm ceiling. Dust motes flicker in the rays of sunlight that peek through the blinds he’d drawn to take his catnap. Soft tones of cream, pink, and orange dance across the wall. The air feels light and warm. Hazy. He arches his back, stretching his arms upwards, and rolls out the kinks in his neck. 

He puts out his hand to capture one of the sunbeams, watching the light skip across it. It highlights the soft pink hue of his skin, still warm and flushed from sleep. He curls his fingers slowly before releasing them again. Pink makes him think of stupid, childish things, like stuffed animals and balloons, cotton candy and jellybeans. There is an innocence to it that is wrapped up in the fizz of bubbles and the brightness of glitter. 

Andrew lost pink long, long ago.

He drops his hand back onto the bed before sitting up, running fingers haphazardly through his hair. There is an uncommon silence that currently occupies his dorm room. He wishes his brain would leave him alone for just a bit longer so that he can enjoy it. But other parts of his body are soon calling to him, ruining any further chance he has of appreciating this stillness. 

After visiting the bathroom, Andrew stumbles out into the kitchen and blinks blearily at the clock on the microwave. Hmm, Neil should have been back from his class by now. 

Though he knows it’s a fruitless effort, he still humors himself by pulling out his cell phone and checking for messages. Nothing. 

He blinks back at the clock once more. He’ll give it another half-hour before he starts tracking his junkie down. 

For now, his thoughts turn towards a reward that’s more immediately gratifying. Andrew whips open the fridge door and then winces. He’s pretty sure that’s two moldy tangerines in the back corner of a shelf (he told Neil to get rid of them), a partially eaten bag of Kale (Jesus, Kevin, really?), and something in a takeout container that Andrew is no longer sure was once edible, or if Aaron has left one of his biology experiments in their fridge again. He also finds an empty egg carton, a bag of bread that has only the heels left in it, two packages of cheese singles, and a half-eaten jar of dijon mustard. 

Ugh, he really doesn’t want to go to the store tonight. But calling for takeout seems just as taxing. 

Shrugging, Andrew opens the freezer door instead. And his face darkens as he stares at its equally empty contents. 

Why is he the only responsible one in this dorm room?

He huffs before turning back towards the cabinets. They’re college kids. Surely they must have something cheap and disgusting like ramen hanging around somewhere. Andrew will tolerate it over having to put any more effort into feeding himself. 

He pauses after throwing open the doors of another cabinet and finds nothing but some leftover spices. Maybe if he asks Neil, he’ll pick something up? 

The suite door slams shut, and he nearly flinches from the noise- he hadn’t heard it open. His eyes cut across the room, and there Neil stands, as if summoned. Immediately, Andrew turns to him and poses the problem. “Dinner?”

But Neil’s telepathy isn’t functioning today because he shakes his head and says, “Not hungry.” 

Oh well. Guess he’s on his own. 

Neil drops his keys on the side table before moving to the other side of the room towards his desk. His hips sway as he moves, compression tights pulling taut on solid thigh muscles and cupping his ass, and suddenly Andrew’s hunger turns sharp. 

Without thinking, he follows Neil, caging him in as he turns. Neil’s eyes pop open, his pupils swallowing the icy blue of his irises. Andrew deliberately takes a step closer and watches Neil’s Adam’s apple bobble. His own pulse jumps as Neil parts his legs for Andrew without a second thought. 

He slowly leans forward, placing his hands on the desk behind Neil as he stares at his target. Neil’s pink tongue flicks out and licks his lips nervously under Andrew’s gaze. Andrew has the sudden urge to reach out and capture it between his own, but he waits. He lets the tension build between them before he drags his eyes up to meet Neil’s. 

“Yes or no?” he asks, his gravelly tone betraying him. 

“Yes,” Neil utters, and Andrew leans in immediately in response. 

He keeps the touch light to ease them both into it. They’re alone for once and he’s feeling sluggish from his midday nap, so he doesn’t want to rush things. He’s in the mood to linger. So he kisses Neil gently, with soft, open-mouthed caresses that he knows the other man loves. It’s the kind of kiss he would have scoffed at when Neil first came to Palmetto, but now he allows them to indulge in. 

He adores Neil’s mouth until he can’t stand it any longer. He teases the man, and Neil responds wonderfully. There’s a soft noise in the back of his throat as he opens his mouth for Andrew, and it makes heat bloom low in his abdomen. Andrew moves closer as he begins making love to Neil’s mouth, opening him up and pouring himself inside as he begins to stoke the fire hotter for them both.

Then Neil pulls back, and Andrew immediately rips himself away. 

For a moment his heart pounds uncontrollably, but his perfect memory reminds him of Neil’s verbal “yes” only a few seconds ago. However, it’s clear to Andrew it’s a “no” now, even though it looks like Neil doesn’t quite understand it himself. 

It doesn’t matter. Andrew knows. So he stops. 

He waits, giving Neil time to explain.

“Can’t right now,” Neil shrugs, though the movement is jerky. He doesn’t quite meet Andrew’s eyes. “Have to do my Spanish homework or Señora Rivera will be pissed.” 

Andrew digests this. He knows Neil has been busy filling his time with another language that he no longer needs to survive. Andrew could point this out, but he figures it’s a lost cause. Neil thrives on words, language pouring from him in drips, streams, rivulets. It’s a release of things he’s long kept inside. He needs it, like Andrew needs his nicotine fix. Trying to get him to stop would be akin to damming up a waterfall with a couple of sticks.

And, if Andrew is honest with himself, he’s not exactly motivated to stop Neil. Especially since something hot flares up inside of Andrew anytime he hears the striker running his mouth in different tongues (not that he’ll ever tell him this).

So he nods and moves back to the kitchen, returning to his quest of finding something edible to eat for dinner. He finally finds a partial box of spaghetti at the back of a cabinet, so he throws a pot of water on the stove to boil while he starts hunting for sauce. If nothing else, he can eat it with butter (if he can find some), but he’s really hoping they at least have some marinara somewhere. 

He's up on the counter, head stuffed into the second shelf of the corner cabinet when his phone starts ringing. He flips it open without looking, and answers with a grunt. 

“Good evening, Andrew. How are you?”

Andrew scoffs at Renee’s peaceful tone. “Did you get it?”

“I’m good, thank you,” comes her cheeky reply. Then she rushes on to say, “It just arrived today.”

“And?”

“I’ve been accepted.”

Andrew uses his hand to wipe away the small curve of his mouth. “Told you. When are you leaving?”

“In a couple months. They’re still finishing up a few interviews.”

“Where?” He hops down off the counter and checks the water.

“Not sure yet.” 

“How long?”

“Two years.”

And now Andrew is silent. 

He thinks of Renee blowing pink bubblegum bubbles on the bench and letting Andrew pop them. He recalls braiding Renee’s hair and weaving in a blush ribbon for her foster mother’s cancer walk. He thinks of watermelon slices on Abby’s back porch, the two of them seeing who can spit the seeds farthest. 

“You know it’s something I have to do, Andrew,” Renee says quietly.

“No,” Andrew responds stubbornly because he can. “You don’t. No one forced you to join the Peace Corps.” 

“But still I need to go.” Her voice is calm but insistent. Andrew can hear a tiny bit of trepidation in her tone, but it’s nothing compared to the resolve and the excitement he finds there. 

He remembers the day she left PSU for good, letting her hug him tight just once before she scrambled into her car. She turned back around and stuck her tongue out at him. Then she grinned and drove away. He’d watched until her car disappeared, and even past that, as Neil stood silently next to him all the while.

He shrugs, even though he knows she can’t see it. “Then go.”

“Thank you,” she says, and it makes him squirm. “I knew you’d understand.”

Andrew makes a rude noise to show how disgusted he is by this show of affection. 

“What are you up to?” Renee moves on. 

“Dinner,” Andrew grunts. He frowns and closes the cabinet, admitting defeat. He’s going to have to go grocery shopping. 

Renee chuckles. “Glad to see you’re still taking care of yourself.”

“Shut up, Walker.” 

“How is Neil?” she asks. 

Andrew glances back at him. The redhead is thoroughly immersed in his Spanish homework, his back hunched over his desk in a way that Andrew knows he’ll be sore from later. He probably won’t even notice Andrew is gone. 

“Hmm,” is all the answer Andrew gives.

He turns off the stove and shuffles towards the door, slipping on his adidas sandals. He grabs his keys and slips out of the suite, heading down the stairs. 

“Is something wrong?” Renee asks now. 

And Andrew is silent, debating with himself as he walks out into the parking lot and gets into his car. But Renee is patient. She simply waits as he starts it and smoothly glides down the road. 

“Something’s off,” Andrew finally admits. 

“Off? How?”

Andrew thinks, flipping through recent memories like he’s rewinding a movie. But he can’t put his finger on it. “I don’t know.”

“Have you asked him about it?”

“No,” Andrew says, pulling into the parking lot. He hops out, locks the car, and heads inside, grabbing a basket. 

“Why not?”

Andrew doesn’t say anything as he weaves between aisles and grabs supplies mindlessly off the shelves. Pasta sauce, grated cheese, meatballs, garlic toast, cupcakes, frozen pizza, cereal, milk, strawberry pop-tarts, ice cream, sherbet, eggs, bread. You know, the essentials. 

“It’s okay not to know, Andrew,” Renee says softly into the silence. 

Andrew swallows. This is something new that he’s been working with Bee on. Of not waiting until he has everything figured out, ensuring he has the upper hand before he enters a conversation. Of realizing that things can be wrong that may have nothing to do with him. Of opening himself up to Neil and trusting that whatever he’s going to say won’t rip him apart. 

But each time she brings it up, Andrew feels his heart begin to hammer inside his chest. It’s too much. He can’t afford to be blindsided. He won’t let himself be destroyed like that, willingly walking in front of a loaded gun.

“Just think about it, okay?” Renee prods him forward again in the conversation, filling in the gaps where he’s dropped it. 

Andrew takes a steadying breath, and nods. “I will.”

She chuckles a bit as she adds, “Just don’t wait too long, either. We both know Neil can sometimes get lost inside his own head.”

“You’re assuming there’s something in there for him to get lost in,” Andrew deadpans, his lips smirking at Renee’s chiding noises. 

They exchange a few more words before hanging up as Andrew gets in line. As he draws near the cash register though, he takes one last look over at the produce section before sighing. 

Later, as he places the bowl of fresh fruit on the corner of Neil’s desk, he feels a small twist in the bottom of his stomach. 

_Coward_ , he snarls at himself. But he retreats to the bedroom anyway. 

If he can’t talk to Neil, then he can at least do this. 

\---

“Ugh, forget it, I yield!” Neil groans, flopping down onto his back in the middle of the court. He’s taken off his helmet and is staring at the endless sky of stars above. His chest heaves, rising up and down as a dusty pink color blooms on his cheeks. His eyes are alight though, a clear cerulean blue that reminds Andrew of photos he’s seen of the Aegean Sea. They look warm and inviting, as does the grin that he wears unabashedly. 

Neil is loving this.

“See, this is exactly why I said we should start practicing earlier,” Kevin chastises him, as if he’s not panting and sweating himself. “Three weeks was entirely too long of a vacation-” 

“Oh fuck off, Kevin!”

Andrew doesn’t waste his breath arguing with either of them. While he isn’t panting, he wouldn’t exactly call his breathing steady either. But he won’t give Kevin the satisfaction of letting him know that he can barely lift his arms anymore. He leans against his racquet for another minute or two as they squabble before deciding he’s done for the night. 

He drops his racquet to the ground and starts moving towards the doors in the center.

“Andrew?” Neil asks, his eyebrows scrunching together as he sits up from the ground. 

Andrew turns and looks at him from the court doors. “Clean this shit up.”

Kevin smirks at Neil before following Andrew. 

“What?” Neil cries, shocked. “Hey, wait a second, I’m your captain! If anything, I should be ordering the two of you to clean up this mess!”

He points his arm emphatically at the litany of Exy balls and cones that are strewn about the place. 

Andrew and Kevin exchange a single glance before they close the Court doors behind them. 

“Assholes! Fuck you both!”

Andrew’s mouth quirks slightly at the younger man’s petulant tone. He pops into the locker room, showering and changing quickly. While he wouldn’t say he’s exhausted, bed will be a welcome relief. He stifles a yawn as he closes his locker, his eyes blinking sleepily. 

When Neil enters the locker room, he sticks his tongue out at Andrew before heading towards the showers. Andrew is seized with the brief, insane urge to do something flippant in return, like pinch his hip or slap his butt as he walks by. 

The impulse is spontaneous, light-hearted, and carefree. It’s also completely foreign and unnerving, so he smothers it quickly. 

He walks out to the parking lot where his car sits, a lone figure in the low light of the streetlamps. He scrambles up onto the hood and lights a cigarette as he waits for both strikers. 

Kevin finishes first, coming out and leaning against the passenger door to stare at the night sky, like Neil was doing earlier. 

For a moment, the two of them enjoy the silence of the summer night. Crickets chirp in the background and a soft breeze dances through Andrew’s hair. The moon is bright and glowing above, casting long shadows on the ground.

Then Kevin sighs. “Do you ever think you’ll miss this?”

Andrew turns his head to stare at Kevin. Then he swivels back and grunts. “Miss carting your ass around at one in the morning after playing stickball? Not even slightly.”

Kevin snorts before saying, “I meant all of it. The practices and the games. The team dinners, and bus trips, and banquets. Hanging in the dorms. Eden’s and Columbia. Movie nights. The Foxes. All of it.”

Andrew stays silent.

“Because I will,” Kevin says softly. 

Andrew hums a bit, tapping his cigarette to knock off excess ash. “Nothing stays the same.”

“Even the nothing you and Neil have?” Kevin lifts a brow slyly. 

Andrew frowns. “It’s nothing as long as I say it is.”

“Just saying it doesn’t make it true.”

“But neither does it make it not true,” Andrew affirms, which is why he hates words so much. They reverse and spin and contradict each other relentlessly. But he feels defensive, like he has to keep explaining himself. Though he doesn’t understand why. It’s just Kevin. “It has to be nothing.”

“Because if it’s not nothing, then it’s something. Something implies value. And losing things of value hurts.” Kevin tilts his head, and his eyes see entirely too much as he says, “You don’t want to admit that losing Neil has the power to hurt you.”

Andrew stares at him. Kevin’s currently too far away to reach but it doesn’t stop Andrew from thinking how easy it would be to jump down and sock him in the kidney. He debates it silently.

Kevin smiles but it’s brittle and false. “Lived in the Nest, remember? I know what nothing is like.” He stops, grabbing at his left hand unconsciously. “I’m just more familiar with being told I’m the reason I have nothing. And that I deserved it.”

Though Kevin doesn’t know the game, Andrew can still appreciate a truth for a truth. It makes him pause. Then, instead of punching Kevin, he offers him the lit cigarette. 

He doesn’t know why he does it. He doesn’t think Kevin will take it. He’ll likely scoff and chastise Andrew further for sabotaging his lungs, increasing his risk for cancer, hurting his chances in Exy, blah, blah, blah…

But Kevin only hesitates a moment before he grabs it. He plucks it delicately from Andrew’s fingers and lifts the stick to his mouth, slipping it between his lips. He’s barely taken a drag though before he’s spluttering, nearly hacking up a lung as he shoves it back at Andrew. “Jesus! What the- _cough, cough_ -what the hell, Andrew? That’s- _hack, cough_ -disgusting. How the fuck- _cough, choke, gasp_ -do you and Neil smoke these things?”

Andrew smirks as he continues to wheeze. Neil comes out just in time to find Kevin nearly losing it, and frowns. “I thought we agreed not to kill him until after we win the championship next year?”

Andrew shrugs. “Didn’t say when I could start.”

“Fuck- _cough, cough_ \- fuck you both,” Kevin gasps.

Neil tuts. “Exy, alcohol, and smoking, Kev? I said you could only have one addiction, not add another one.”

He smiles brilliantly, and Andrew’s eye is immediately drawn to a small droplet of water trailing down his neck from his still-wet hair. Desire flares within him, a helpless instinct to tug Neil closer by the belt loop and slowly slide his tongue up the side of Neil’s neck to catch it, tasting salt and skin. 

Kevin coughs again but this time Andrew catches him hiding a smile behind his fist.

Feeling stupidly caught out, like he’s some kind of middle-school girl with a _crush_ , Andrew rolls his eyes and flicks his cigarette butt at Kevin before sliding off the hood. He’s grateful that the darkness hides the color rising on the back of his neck. 

He opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat, pausing only long enough to say, “If the two of you don’t get in this car now, I’m leaving your asses here to walk back to the dorms.”

Instantly, Neil and Kevin fight to get into the passenger seat before Neil wins with a sneaky pinch to Kevin’s underarm that has the taller man yelping. 

Neil sends Andrew a triumphant grin as he snaps his seatbelt into place. And Andrew ignores the traitorous thumping of his heart as he peels out of the parking lot to the sound of Kevin’s grumbling in the back seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of fluff to start. ❤ And the planting of some seeds... 
> 
> Neil: Um, remember that time I was your captain?  
> Andrew & Kevin, older, upperclassmen, don't give a shit about rank, staring at the person who turned their lives upside down as soon as he entered it: NOPE
> 
> Small fun fact: the first scene in this chapter was actually the very first one I wrote from Andrew's POV. 😉 
> 
> Y'all are so lovely with your comments!! I love hearing from you! Listening to your theories, and your favorite parts, and all the little details you catch- proud to be part of this fandom b/c you guys are quite brilliant! 🤩😁 Thank you so much for reading, and happy Fri-yay! 
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> He’s still mulling it over the next day, snapping at anyone who gets too near. 
> 
> Each time he sees someone jump, fear rising in their eyes as they dance back, it soothes something dark and vicious within him. 
> 
> He spars with Kevin. Nearly comes to fists with Aaron. Cuts Nicky down to pieces.
> 
> He makes the Foxes chase any balls they put within his reach down the court all practice, causing Wymack to throw his clipboard down and curse the air blue. 
> 
> Everything is gnarled, twisted, and angry and Andrew is _thriving_ on it. 
> 
> Until finally, Neil puts a stop to it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking is hard and people are stupid. Luckily, Andrew has a Neil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: implied/referenced rape/non-con from canon. Also may be some mild depression triggers in this one.
> 
> Let's get into some angst, shall we? 😉

Andrew knew his day was fucked the minute Katelyn finds him after class. 

“Wrong twin,” he snaps, brushing past her. 

Katelyn doesn’t respond except to turn around and fall into step with him. Andrew scowls. 

Her light perfume sneaks its way into his nostrils as they walk, and he wrinkles his nose with distaste. Her hair is braided away from her face, and she’s wearing a sundress with strappy, flat sandals. Her toes are painted a bright coral pink, like seashells or the inner flesh of a grapefruit, and he notices that they match her bag. 

He hates that he notices anything about the female. 

He tries to speed up but her longer legs match his stride again in seconds. He barely stops himself from letting out an irritated huff. 

He’s mildly surprised she even has the balls to approach him. 

The last time the two of them had a conversation (if you could call it that) was in a library two years ago. Where he’d threatened her and left her a sobbing mess in a corner. (He does not feel bad about this). Oh, they’ve seen each other here and there since; sometimes when Aaron is brave enough to drag Katelyn out to the Foxes’ movie night, or when their social groups happen to coincide at a campus party. But those can barely be labeled as interactions. Andrew scarcely tolerates her existence at these events, ignoring her completely, and he doesn’t give a fuck what she thinks in return.

So what the hell is she doing here now?

He steals a glance at the cheerleader’s face. Though she’s pale, there’s a grim determination in her jawline, a stubborn set to her shoulders that he hasn’t seen before. She doesn’t look at him. 

He stops suddenly, causing her to stumble and whip around to face him. “What the fuck do you want?”

She sighs, hip jutting out to the side as she crosses her arms. “Well, which is it, Andrew? Am I ‘never, ever to speak to you’ again, or do you want me to talk?”

Andrew doesn’t react to having his own words thrown back at him from that memorable library conversation. _Good_ , he thinks. _Someone listened to him for once_.

“I don’t _want_ you to do anything,” he sneers. “Just because my brother allows you to suck the life from him, doesn’t mean I need to suffer. Go waste someone else’s oxygen.” 

Katelyn closes her eyes briefly, taking a very deep and deliberate breath. “I’m not going anywhere, Andrew.”

Ah, so this was what this was all about. 

“Well I am,” he says pettily, and keeps walking. 

Katelyn catches up to him in seconds. “I want to get to know you. For Aaron’s sake. This can’t be our relationship for the rest of our lives.”

“First, I don’t care what you want,” Andrew rattles off his points in quick succession. “Second, I don’t care what your motives are, regardless if they involve my brother. Third, you and I do not have a relationship. And fourth, you won’t need to worry about it because your life is growing shorter by the second, standing here talking to me.”

“And I don’t care that you don’t care,” Katelyn shoots back, skipping past the threat, “but Aaron does.”

Andrew nails her with a blank stare. “So you’re saying it’s his fault that I have to deal with you right now.”

“No, of course not, Andrew-”

“Because I won’t think twice about releasing Neil on him.”

Katelyn snorts. “Neil and Aaron already have an established relationship.”

Andrew narrows his eyes. 

“It’s not the healthiest,” Katelyn admits, “but they’re forced to interact in Exy, and I think both of them have been trying harder as of late. For your sake.” She glares at him. “So why can’t we do the same?”

“I don’t know, why can’t you?” Andrew slides a knife from his sleeve and starts playing with it. Katelyn’s eyes latch onto it and she swallows. He bares his teeth in response. “Oh, I know. Because if you try and force me to do anything, I’ll gut you like a fish. And you know I don’t give a shit if you’re a girl in this situation.”

“I don’t know why that matters,” she replies calmly, but her eyes never leave the blade. “Because I’d easily do the same to you if you tried to force me.”

Andrew doesn’t bother responding to that pointless threat. He’s already beyond tired of this conversation. 

One day, Katelyn will take his brother from him. It is an inevitability that even the rest of the Foxes can see. Andrew should have had years with his twin; they should have forged a bond so tight that no one could even think of breaking it. But Andrew has a laundry list of things that should have happened in his life that didn’t. This is just an old, faded entry long scrubbed away.

He wonders why Katelyn can’t see it. That she doesn’t need to do this- she’s already won. Andrew only has a year or two left before his brother is gone. And once they graduate, Aaron probably won’t bother to give Andrew the time of day. The only reason his brother started going to sessions with him was to keep her. Andrew was the punishment, not the reward. 

How ironic that the things Andrew wants to keep are always the things he can never have. 

“We can-” and here Katelyn hesitates before drawing a shaky breath. “We can both have him, Andrew.”

 _Both_. Andrew nearly chokes. He wouldn’t know where to begin. There is no sharing in his world- he’s always lived in black and white. It was always a choice. Either it was his or it wasn’t. It’s what happens when you’ve always had to fight for anything good in your life. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps automatically. 

“I want you to have a relationship with your brother. _He_ wants it. And I know Neil wants you to have it too.” 

Andrew’s jaw hurts he’s grinding his teeth so hard. 

Neil had been the one to extend the olive branch. He wouldn’t call the two of them friends, but in the past year Neil has moved past the ‘polite’ stage to something in-between with Katelyn. Something that allows the two of them to smirk sometimes at the table, to text infrequently, or to stop and chat when they run into each other on campus. 

He once overheard Nicky say it was Neil planning for the future. “Making nice with the in-laws,” he had winked at Kevin who ignored him. “I mean if she’s going to be Aaron’s wife, they can’t ignore her forever, right?”

Andrew had been sick to his stomach. His cousin’s stupid comment had caused Andrew to tail his brother for a week, sure that he was going to pop the question to the infernal cheerleader at any moment. But his brother made no stray trips to a jeweler, didn’t practice dropping to one knee or look obnoxiously nervous. He didn’t react differently at all. And Katelyn’s hand remained unadorned. 

But it made Andrew think. 

He thinks of how Neil had been the one to recognize this first, baring the fear of losing his brother out in the light like a festering wound. 

He thinks of how Aaron had come to him, throwing their deal back in Andrew’s face, finally gathering the courage to fight for what he wants. 

He thinks of how when presented with two choices, neither of which he wanted to lose, he’d chosen. 

Andrew doesn’t believe in regret. He’d made his decision. And now he will live with the consequences. 

“Leave me the fuck alone,” he says now. “This conversation is over. Don’t follow me.”

He forges ahead, setting a brutal pace and this time Katelyn doesn’t follow. Or, that is to say, she does follow but at a much slower pace. Which means obviously she was on her way over to his brother’s room and timed it specifically so that she could walk with Andrew. 

He climbs the stairs, not pausing at his floor, restless energy spurring him onwards until he drops down onto the ledge of the roof. He whips out a cigarette and has it lit within moments. 

Then he feels his phone vibrate. He snarls as he snatches it out of his pocket and holds it up to his face. If it’s somehow that fucking cheerleader again-

But Andrew stares down at the text message, his nose wrinkling in distaste. 

What the fuck is this?

**Allison** : fix it before i come back and kick ur ass

Cryptic and threatening. Also extremely unhelpful. Just like he remembers her. 

It must be about Neil, Andrew concludes, because Reynolds certainly doesn’t text him otherwise. The fact that she’s bothered to make the effort drops like a stone in his stomach. What the hell does she know that he doesn’t?

He stubs out his cigarette on the roof tarmac and immediately lights another. He takes a long drag, feeling the rush of nicotine sing through his veins as he stomps ruthlessly on his temper. Agitation slithers along his skin. He’s loath to admit it, but the conversation with Katelyn has him wound. Tighter and tighter the clock key turns, time bleeding from an invisible wound, and he’s powerless to stop it. 

It is inevitable that he will lose something when everything ends.

He stays up there, under the brutal midday sun, and lets himself think. Sweat pours down his back like paint drops, sticking and collecting in uncomfortable places. He recognizes vaguely that he is probably getting sunburned. 

Which Andrew thinks is distinctly excessive because he feels like today should be smothered in darkness. Everything should be black. There should be sinister clouds thundering across stormy skies, stars falling into a Cimmerian night, the world drained and bleached of color. Instead, blue skies and bright sunshine mock him above. He should be used to it.

Andrew’s darkest days have always been those that are most revealing.

When Neil opens the roof door later, Andrew doesn’t turn towards him. But already his presence is like balm to a burn, and Andrew aches. He realizes he’s been waiting for Neil to arrive, wants him to help soothe his ruffled feathers. It infuriates him. 

Neil takes a seat just out of reach, grabbing a cigarette from his own pocket instead of stealing Andrew’s. Then he leans back as he exhales smoke, his stunning blue eyes slipping closed, and his head thrown back so that the sun catches the fire of his auburn curls. 

This does not bother Andrew. He does not feel the need to tell Neil to go to hell and take his secrets with him. He does not have the urge to rip Neil’s cigarette from his mouth, toss it off the roof, and potentially send Neil flying off after it. Maybe himself as well.

“Foxes are back,” is what he says instead, breaking their silence. He sucks in a huge lungful of smoke and releases it slowly.

Neil’s only response is to hum, an offhand acknowledgement that Andrew spoke.

It irks him, this lack of reaction, so he purposefully prods, poking a sore spot to see if it bleeds. “You could have said no, _Captain_.”

They’d just started up practice this week, and already Andrew is bored of it. Even more so now since Neil runs them, stepping up to the plate of captainship like the martyr he is. He knows it’s going to be a long and arduous season of mental fuckery for Neil, and he can’t say he’s looking forward to it. 

But Neil has even less of a reaction to this than Andrew’s former statement. Andrew wonders for a brief second if the silence is purposeful, then dismisses it just as quickly. Neil’s malice shows itself in volume, in noise. Not in empty spaces. 

So Andrew gives up. Speech clearly isn’t working for the two of them today. 

Which is fine with Andrew. It’s not his responsibility to get Neil to open up, after all. He’s an adult, can make his own damn decisions, can decide to talk to Andrew if and when he wants to. Andrew isn’t going to beg for it. 

Then he curses inwardly, hating himself even before he does it, but just in case- he slides his hand into the space between them. It’s a clear invitation, one he’s offered to Neil before. A signal for Neil to move in next, to ask a simple question. Neil’s eyes latch onto the small movement, and they widen ever so slightly before he freezes. 

Andrew’s eyes narrow. 

He waits, but Neil makes no further moves towards him. Hell, Andrew can barely tell he’s breathing he’s so still. Neil has vanished somewhere inside himself today, fumbling around in the dark where Andrew can’t reach him. 

He feels oddly ashamed as he leans back, stuffing his hand into his pocket. 

Scoffing, he tosses his cigarette butt down on the roof and stands. When Neil stays where he is, not even bothering to look at Andrew, frustration slips through his teeth in the form of a growl. He leaves, letting the door slam behind him and taking the stairs two at a time. 

He’s beyond annoyed by the time he reaches his room and hears his cousin call out to him. “Andrew! I was just coming to find you.”

Andrew doesn’t respond but leaves the door open so that Nicky can follow him inside his suite. 

He watches with irritated curiosity as Nicky looks around, popping his head into the bedroom before nodding his head in satisfaction that the place is empty. He sits down on a stool next to the counter and fixes Andrew with his best parental look. “I think something’s up with Neil.”

Jesus, Neil again. What is with everyone? “Okay.”

Nicky frowns. “He was in my room earlier, saying some stuff that has Allison and I concerned.”

Ah, so that’s where Allison fits in. And they were all talking about something that was bothering Neil. Something Neil hadn’t bothered to tell him. What a nice chat that must have been. 

Andrew grinds his teeth. “And you’re telling me because?”

Nicky’s brow furrows. “Seriously, Andrew?”

“What?”

“He’s your boyfriend! Excuse me for thinking you might want to know if something is bugging him.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Andrew snaps but Nicky waves an unconcerned hand in the air. 

“Fine, whatever you want to call this… _thing_ you two have. Most people would call it a relationship. Which, for the record, I’m betting Neil wouldn’t mind.”

“There is no ‘thing,’” Andrew repeats, purposefully ignoring the other half of Nicky’s statement. 

Nicky pauses and looks at him then. “You’re really still saying that? It’s been almost three years now, Andrew. I thought-”

“And there is your problem,” Andrew cuts in. “Stop thinking. About Neil, about me. ‘We’ aren’t anything.”

It’s riding along on a well-worn train track. It’s the message on a machine recorded long ago. The words are familiar, comforting, securely stashed from behind sharp thorns and thick walls. He needs them right now.

Nicky looks thunderstruck. “So you’re saying it doesn’t matter. With Neil. That you could stop at any time.”

“Yes,” Andrew replies, but he doesn’t explain. It matters, more than anything else has mattered in his entire life. But he can stop. If he must- if Neil asks. He has to be able to or else he’ll be like them. And he will never do that to Neil. 

But knowing he can doesn’t make him foolish enough to think it won’t kill him. The roots of Neil have so entwined themselves in Andrew that if they separate, Andrew knows he won’t survive. He’ll shrivel up, parched and deprived in a world that’s oversaturated. An empty shell whose only purpose left will be to turn to dust. 

It’s stupid, and dramatic, and absolutely ridiculous. But it doesn’t make it any less true. 

It’s also none of his cousin’s business. 

“You’re lying.”

Andrew keeps his gaze steady on him and says nothing. 

Nicky is quiet for a moment. Then he stands up and heads back towards the suite door. He swings it opens, places one foot in the hall and pauses. He glances back at Andrew. “Maybe Neil does have something to worry about.” 

Then he leaves Andrew stewing inside his room, chewing on the words of conversations today over and over in his mind until he grinds them to mush. 

\---

He’s still mulling it over the next day, snapping at anyone who gets too near. 

Each time he sees someone jump, fear rising in their eyes as they dance back, it soothes something dark and vicious within him. 

He spars with Kevin. Nearly comes to fists with Aaron. Cuts Nicky down to pieces.

He makes the Foxes chase any balls they put within his reach down the court all practice, causing Wymack to throw his clipboard down and curse the air blue. 

Everything is gnarled, twisted, and angry and Andrew is _thriving_ on it.

Until finally, Neil puts a stop to it. 

He turns around after practice and looks at Kevin. Then he points at Matt’s truck. “Go.”

Kevin’s jaw drops. He turns and stares at Andrew. When Andrew does nothing but stare back, he grumbles, mutters, then huffs out an exasperated noise before stomping his way over to the pickup. 

Neil doesn’t watch him. He takes out his key to Andrew’s car from his pocket, opens the driver’s door, and slips into the seat. His door closes, and Andrew hears the car start not a second later.

Andrew tilts his head. Then he gets in on the passenger’s side. 

Once he’s in, Neil smoothly slips out into traffic, the Maserati barely making a sound. 

They don’t go back to Fox Tower. Andrew watches the turn come and go. His eyes barely flick to the road when Neil passes it, but Neil doesn’t acknowledge it at all. It’s only once they turn onto the highway that Andrew’s curiosity is piqued. 

He turns in his seat, leans back against the window, and takes up one of Neil’s favorite pastimes: staring. 

The sun is dipping low, skirting along the horizon, casting a hazy crimson gleam over everything it touches. It makes Neil’s hair burn brighter, the blue of his eyes sharper as he easily steers Andrew’s car. 

There’s something that pulls at Andrew in this moment, something aching and sharp in his chest as he watches Neil and the Maserati move together in sync. 

Neil is so familiar with Andrew’s car, he doesn’t have to search for anything. There’s no hesitation when he shifts gears or turns on the headlights. He leans back in the seat, his arm relaxing on the windowsill as one hand guides the steering wheel. The other he uses to flip through radio stations at random. Shadows dance in and out of the scars on his hand as he fiddles with the console. 

Andrew stares at that hand, captivated. Only inside his head can he admit how in awe of Neil’s hands he is. How he finds it impossible for them to be so kind and patient, after everything that’s been done to them. How bruised and damaged, yet resilient they remain. 

Neil’s hand is the one that grabbed Andrew’s during one of his darkest hours and gave him something real, shoving it up his shirt to expose one of Neil’s only truths. It was also that hand that gently took Andrew’s ice cream pint and set it aside while he asked something no one ever had before. The same one that, from that moment forward, was willingly shoved in a pocket or behind his back simply because Andrew said so. A hand that never took, never grabbed, never forced him to do anything. A hand that had come back burned, bloody, and nearly broken after Baltimore, when Andrew thought he’d never see it again. 

That hand waves at him now, just a quick flicker of movement that has Andrew blinking. 

“Hey,” Neil frowns at him. He sends him a questioning glance.

The side of Andrew’s head falls against the seat headrest. “Kidnapping can get you five to twenty, you know.”

Neil snorts. “In your car?”

“I’ll tell them you had a weapon.”

“You’re the one with knives on your person. If anything, they’ll probably think I was the one kidnapped.”

“I’ll tell them I was under duress.”

Neil laughs. 

It’s not a sarcastic or forced noise, like Neil sometimes uses as a weapon. It’s a sharp, surprised sound that always seems rusty from lack of use. Neil has a habit of cutting it off quick, as if the noise will bring unwanted attention and he needs to smother it before someone finds out. It irritates Andrew. Not only because he knows Mary is probably the one that beat this noise out of Neil, but because it does something weird to him whenever he hears the sound. Something that feels like a star exploding in the pit of his stomach, or the pin and needle pricks of a thousand drunk honeybees along his limbs. 

The mental image gnaws at a memory from the back of his mind, and it comes rushing forward like a tidal wave. 

> _“How was Bee?” Nicky asks as both Aaron and Andrew walk into the dorm room._
> 
> _Aaron grunts. Andrew doesn’t respond. But he watches the corner of Neil’s mouth twitch when he walks over and throws himself down on the couch next to Neil._
> 
> _“Great!” Nicky replies to himself with false enthusiasm. “Glad to know it’s going so well.” He frowns for a second, then says, “You know, I’ve wondered about this for a while but- why is she called Bee?”_
> 
> _“Because she plies Andrew with sweets and honey,” Neil smirks, getting his face shoved for his efforts._
> 
> _“Because she’s annoying and never stops talking, no matter how you swat at her,” Aaron says darkly._
> 
> _“Because someone was lazy and didn’t want to say her whole name,” Andrew deadpans._
> 
> _“Was it you?” Neil asks._
> 
> _Andrew shrugs._
> 
> _“Speaking of bees,” Kevin pipes up. He’s typing away on his laptop over at the table in the corner, and doesn't bother looking at them as he continues, “Did you know that honeybees are the only bee species that die when they sting someone? They have a barbed stinger, which means they basically leave a part of themselves in the thing they’re stinging, thereby ultimately destroying themselves as they take out the threat.”_
> 
> _“Uh, first off that’s random, Kev,” Nicky says, exchanging a raised eyebrow with Neil, “and second, why are you so morbid?”_
> 
> _Kevin just shrugs._
> 
> _Neil wrinkles his nose. “So why would they ever sting someone in the first place if they know they're going to die from it?”_
> 
> _“It’s an act of heroism and sacrifice,” Kevin says resolutely, lifting a shot glass up that Andrew hadn’t seen at first in solid salute. “They do it to protect their home and their queen.”_
> 
> _Neil frowns as he watches him._
> 
> _“Oh, so like Andrew,” Aaron quips from the kitchen._
> 
> _Andrew turns and nails him with a glare. A single warning. Aaron flips him off in return._
> 
> _Kevin is oblivious to this silent exchange. “No, only the females are the ones who die after they sting someone.”_
> 
> _“Oh what, so the guys just get off scot-free?” Neil replies scathingly._
> 
> _Kevin shakes his head and then says bluntly, “No, they die from having sex.”_
> 
> _The room goes eerily quiet._
> 
> _Nicky sucks in a breath. Neil gives Kevin a blistering glance, who winces in return._
> 
> _“It’s the same as stinging really," he finishes because he just can't help himself. "After it's done, part of them is involuntarily ripped out and left behind, and it...ruins them essentially." Kevin's face burns red as he buries it in his hands. "They don't have a choice. It's…it’s literally the only thing they’re made for," he mumbles._
> 
> _At the counter, Aaron pauses in making himself a sandwich; body frozen with bread slice in one hand and knife in the other, as it dips into the mayonnaise. Andrew hears him curse softly under his breath._
> 
> _After that, no one knows what to say._
> 
> _Andrew lets the silence go for a bit before he clucks his tongue and finally offers, “Bee dressed as a bee for Halloween one year.”_
> 
> _“Did she?” Nicky latches onto the topic like a lifeline. “Do you have any pictures? Show me!”_
> 
> _Andrew hands over his phone to Neil who knows exactly where to find it, letting Nicky frantically transition into memorable Halloween shenanigans, before stalking off to the bedroom. But he can’t quite get the image of a cold, curled up body of a dead honeybee out of his head._
> 
> _For a sick, horrible moment, he thinks he can relate. Because certainly, he knows what it feels like to be ruined._ _He knows that something inside him died after each time._
> 
> _And sometimes he wonders, when he lets Neil touch him, if it will finish off what’s left._

“Well, they do have my face on file at the FBI now, and my family was literally the mob so…maybe they'll believe you.” 

Andrew jerks back to the present and looks over at the way Neil is smiling at him, completely ignorant to the thoughts racing inside Andrew’s head. He ignores the way his pulse speeds up in response. “Is there somewhere I can tell them that you meant to bury my body, or will half the fun be letting me make it up?” he finally replies, pulling the pieces of himself back together before Neil can see them crumbling apart.

“We’re almost there now, just be patient,” Neil answers.

Andrew huffs. 

Sometime later, he watches Neil pull off an exit and his eyes narrow. Recognition flares in the back of his mind. Andrew stares back at Neil in disbelief. 

The absolute nerve of this asshole. 

Another smile is tugging at Neil’s lips as he pulls down a dirt road to a small little shack that seems like it’s in the middle of nowhere but has a surprising number of cars parked in front of it. He pulls in haphazardly, making his own spot in the grass field, before shutting off the engine. Then he turns to Andrew and waits. 

If Andrew were any other person, his jaw would have dropped by now.

Neil drove two hours across the state to get them some ice cream. From Andrew’s favorite ice cream shop. On a weeknight. 

But Neil doesn’t seem to understand the gravitas of this, because he simply hums, drawing a single line with his finger down the seam of Andrew's black leather armrest, mere inches away from the warm skin of Andrew's arm. Andrew's breath grows shallow. 

When Neil lifts his gaze to meet his eyes, he merely raises an eyebrow and says, “Come on.” Then he opens the door, gets out of the car, and starts walking towards the line. 

After a couple seconds delay, Andrew follows him. 

It’s not that long a wait. It’s actually the perfect amount of time for Andrew to stare at the menu and determine what three flavors he wants. Neil doesn’t blink when Andrew gives his order at the counter. He simply pulls out his wallet and pays. Then they go over to the other window to wait. 

It’s only after the worker hands Andrew his dish and spoon, when Neil starts walking towards the car with half the stack of napkins in his hand, that Andrew realizes he didn’t order anything. 

Neil drove them two hours across the state to get _Andrew_ ice cream. 

Andrew doesn’t speak as they merge onto the highway again, driving back towards Palmetto. He digs his spoon into the soft scoops and takes tiny bites, letting the flavors explode over his tongue. 

He goes to take another bite before he stares down at the small, plastic utensil. Then he holds it out in front of him. 

Neil turns his head, flicking a small glance at the offering before he leans towards him and opens his mouth. 

For some reason, Andrew’s heart beats faster. 

Neil doesn’t take his eyes from the road as Andrew leans forward and slips the spoon between his lips, guiding the cold treat into his mouth. 

When he slides the spoon out, Neil’s pink tongue dances over his top lip briefly. Then he smiles at Andrew. “Better?” he asks, finally.

And Andrew feels the tips of his ears burn. 

_Are you feeling better? Did this help? Is everything okay?_

Andrew doesn’t deign this with a response. But Neil seems to get it anyway, leaning back with a soft sigh.

Andrew continues to feed Neil occasionally as he drives, ignoring something warm and wonderful blooming inside of him. The something that preens, curling up tighter and urging Andrew to cuddle closer whenever Neil does something incredibly stupid like this. He hates it. 

But despite what he may think, he feels the darkness receding, releasing him to takeover the night sky instead. By the time they reach the dorm parking lot, he’s feeling much more relaxed. 

He looks over at Neil, who is now cloaked in shadow, the street lamps in the parking lot barely illuminating him. But Andrew doesn't need the light. He knows the shape of Neil's mouth; could find his way blind through the scars on his chest; can recall the exact weight of him resting between his thighs. 

There's a hum in his blood, an incessant buzzing inside his brain, and he thinks, _oh. Right._ Because how could he forget? 

Neil is one of the only things that makes him feel alive. 

Andrew hears the car shut off, and watches as Neil turns towards him. He flashes Andrew another brief smile before he asks, “Yes or no?”

Andrew nods. “Yes.”

Neil leans forward and captures Andrew’s chin in his hand. Then he rubs the corner of Andrew’s mouth with his thumb before bringing it back between his own lips. Andrew stares as he licks the digit clean. 

“You are such a messy eater, Andrew Minyard. Who would have guessed?”

Andrew swallows before he drags his gaze away from those lips. “Fuck off. Too busy cleaning up other people’s messes. Yours especially.”

Neil tilts his head and smiles again, before he offers, “Well, I’m happy to clean up your mess anytime, Drew.” 

A trickle of excitement creeps up Andrew’s spine. His cock jumps to attention, straining against his jeans as he eyes Neil’s mouth again. Oh, he knows exactly how good Neil is at cleaning up his mess.

“Would you now?” he murmurs. Though he can't see it, he knows Neil’s face turns red as he realizes the double meaning of his suggestion.

Neil’s tongue darts out and licks his lips, moistening them. Andrew’s dick begins to throb. The air between them grows hot with awareness. 

Somehow, Andrew manages to keep his voice even as he says, “Good. Go ahead then. Make that mouth useful for once.”

Neil’s pupils flare as they travel down and land on Andrew’s crotch. “Can I?” he croaks out, his voice catching with excitement. His hands are white-knuckled on the seat, they’re gripping it so tightly. But he waits first for Andrew to answer. 

Andrew smirks as he leans his seat back and begins to undo his belt buckle. “Yes.”

And then Neil is reaching for him, hands on Andrew’s hips, and he’s leaning down and-

“Neil!”

A knock on the window startles them both. They look over to see Boyd’s grinning face staring down at them. “Oh hey! What’s up, Andrew?” 

Andrew’s going to murder him. 

Neil lets out a small sigh before he sits back and opens the car door. “Hey Matt.”

“Dude, I thought I saw you guys pull in! Literally just got back from the campus store because Aaron was whining about Nicky and I eating all of his Doritos." He lifts up a bag in his other hand. "Grabbed some Hot Pockets while I was at it. Dan says they're gonna eat a hole through my stomach, but I think it's worth it." He shrugs, before wrapping his free arm around Neil's shoulder. "So where'd you guys go? Kevin was pissed as hell when I drove him back after practice.”

Andrew watches Neil smile and evade Matt as the two walk ahead of him back into the Tower. He lets out an irritated sigh before he turns towards his car and locks it with the remote. Neil glances back over his shoulder quickly at the noise and finds Andrew. He smiles softly at him. 

And despite himself, Andrew feels his irritation melt away as he follows the two of them inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The debut of the lovely Ms. Katelyn! Happy to get her into this fic since we had zero interaction with her in Part I. Although I did throw her right into the lion's den with Andrew. (Sorry Katelyn! 😅)
> 
> Matt: Unknowingly cockblocking for pure, excited friendship reasons 🤣🤣🤣
> 
> Phew, a little up and down, back and forth in Andrew's world! I love doing Andrew's POV b/c unlike Neil who is so focused, so one-track mind about everything, Andrew's all over the place. He's so sensitive and aware of his surroundings that I imagine it's sometimes a little sensory overload, magnified by that astounding memory of his. But Neil is an expert at hiding what's bothering him. So it's fun to see Andrew feel something is off but, intermixed with his own problems and doubts, not quite be able to see what's happening...(*evil author laugh*) 
> 
> So doing a thing that I hear all the cool kids are doing...come leave me a note at [tumblr](https://knickknacksandallthat.tumblr.com/) now if you want? 😲😅 Just bear with me on it b/c I'm brand new and don't know what the heck I'm doing LOL. (Do I ever? Discourse for another time.)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and all of your lovely comments!! 💖💖💖  
> 
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> When they reach the counter, a cute brunette with sun-streaked hair greets them. He’s small but lean, with freckles and a tiny mole above his lip. He bites this same lip nervously as the two of them approach. Nicky immediately perks up at the sight of him, but Andrew notices the way his eyes flick to his before darting away. 
> 
> He’s seen him here before, a few times actually. Enough for the guy to no longer ask Andrew for his name when he orders. Enough for Andrew to know his is Derek without looking at the neat print on his nametag.
> 
> Derek smiles after Andrew finishes his order. “Hot chocolate again? In the summer?” he teases. Then he says quietly, almost under his breath, “Don’t you think you’re hot enough without it?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> List of Things Andrew Doesn't Like:  
> 1\. Getting up at the ass crack of dawn to workout  
> 2\. Talking about boys with Nicky  
> 3\. Losing Neil (in any aspect of the word)
> 
> Too bad all three happen in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: References to rape/non-con from canon.

“Mr. Minyard, do you have a few minutes? I’d like to speak with you.”

Andrew looks warily at Heywood from across the lecture hall. The man has just finished explaining their first assignment for the Criminal Procedures and Evidence class Andrew’s taking this semester. He’s a tall, bald guy who used to be a Pig, but now works as a professor. He’s in good shape, wears readers and boring sweater vests, and isn’t known for smiling. 

He also happens to be Andrew’s advisor. Which is interesting because although Andrew has never bothered to visit him, apparently the man still knows who he is. 

He guesses there must not be many former convicts who pursue a criminology degree. 

(Yes, he knows it was technically juvie and those records should be sealed- but once a Pig, always a Pig.)

Preparing himself mentally for some stupid warning or lecture, Andrew slowly makes his way down towards the front, ignoring the rest of the students exiting the classroom. He stands a few feet back from the desk and waits. 

“Andrew, I see you haven’t applied for any of the internships I recommended.” The man pushes his glasses up and stares at Andrew with curiosity. “Did you have a question on any of them?”

Andrew stills, his brow furrowing. Then he shakes his head. 

“Is there some other reason you can’t apply? Transportation? Money?”

Again, Andrew simply shakes his head. 

Professor Heywood cocks his head to the side, but the expression on his face is otherwise neutral. “I understand you’re an exceptionally talented player on the college Exy team, Andrew. So it’s perfectly reasonable for you to be worried about an internship affecting your scholarship. But I’ve spoken with your Coach and we both agreed that if you want to participate in one, we can figure out a way to make it happen.”

And now Andrew is blinking, stepping back involuntarily. His system is malfunctioning. There’s too much happening in those three sentences for his brain to catch up with. He doesn’t know what to address first:

  1. That a Pig isn’t telling him off but is actually complimenting him.
  2. Realizing said compliment was unfortunately about stickball.
  3. The man honestly thought Andrew cared enough about stickball to avoid an internship?
  4. Wymack and his professor have been talking about it. About Andrew. About something _good_.
  5. And wait, they’ve already agreed to a fucking arrangement they hadn’t even discussed with him? For his benefit?



This is why he hates surprises.

“You’re an extremely talented student,” Professor Heywood continues, as if he hasn’t already thrown Andrew’s world for a loop. “One of my brightest, in fact. I think you could easily excel in law enforcement, forensic psychology, or even pursue the bar if you’re so inclined.”

_Bullshit._

Andrew tries not to choke. 

Heywood's mouth twitches. "Admittedly your grades could do with some improvement, but high test scores and completed assignments are useless in the field. No, it's the way you process and apply knowledge that's impressive. Incredible, even, at times." He begins cleaning up papers on his desk and shoving them into his briefcase. "We haven’t discussed what your career aspirations are, so if you have any sort of interest in the areas I mentioned, I highly encourage you to take advantage of some field experience. I can arrange for any of those choices should you desire.”

Right. What Andrew “desires”. What he _desires_ is to get out of this conversation. Now.

Andrew crosses his arms, a scowl forming on his face. People like Heywood don’t make things happen for people like Andrew. Good things don’t happen to people like Andrew period. He knows there’s a catch- he just can’t find it yet. “Got it,” he manages to bite out, just this side of rude. Which he thinks is honestly charitable of him since he’s this close to punching the former Pig in their stupid face. 

The idiot just gives him a brief smile, almost like he can guess. “Think on it and let me know - but I'll need an answer in a few weeks.” He picks up his briefcase and nails Andrew with one last, knowing glance. "This is your future, Andrew. So think carefully about what you want to do with it." Then he bids him good day and walks out. 

Andrew stomps out of the building, lighting up as soon as he’s outside in the fresh air. He tries to control his breathing as he heads over to Neil’s classroom, refusing to let some dumb words from a stupid ex-Pig upset him. 

He knows the future is coming. That college will one day end and he’ll be forced to eke out a living. Despite what everyone else assumes, he has thought about it. He’s pondered, swirled, stewed, and circled around it. But he hasn’t talked about it. Not with his family, not with Wymack, not with Bee- but most importantly, not with Neil. 

He just doesn’t want to think about it yet. Doesn’t want to focus on the gaping hole in his plans that end with the last year of college. It’s smeared over entirely in gray, a blank nothingness that swallows the rest of his existence. It causes a curdling in his gut to think of leaving Neil, of being separated from Aaron, of being an ocean away from Nicky. (Then again, that might be the perfect amount of distance for his cousin’s obnoxious mouth).

Andrew throws down his cigarette in a burst of frustration.

 _Fuck_ Wymack. Fuck him and his goddamn good intentions, and for putting his enormous, meddling nose right smack in the middle of Andrew’s business. He’s going to rip him a new one for interfering.

At least he doesn’t have to deal with Aaron’s permanently attached parasite today. For some reason, Katelyn decided their last conversation was a success, so now she joins Andrew on his walks from his last class back to the dorm every Tuesday and Thursday. To try and dissuade her of this fantasy, he’s told her to fuck off multiple times. But, like the adept listener she and the rest of his team are, she just keeps coming back. So Andrew stubbornly vacillates between utter silence and snarling, angry outbursts, neither of which Katelyn responds to. 

But she can’t quite hide her winces. 

And Andrew gains what small satisfaction he can from this because hey - at least they’re both miserable.

Technically, he knows there are ways he can avoid her, like taking a different route back to the dorm or going somewhere else to kill time before returning, but Andrew is no coward. He can see this little standoff for what it is. And he refuses to back down from it. 

They can do this until Andrew graduates for all he cares.

He follows the paved walkways around campus as he heads towards the building where Neil’s class is in. They’re a charcoal gray, filled with endless cracks born from the pounding of never-ending footsteps of college students. He stares at the deep, dark color and thinks of minerals mined from endless networks of underground caves, the ability to get lost and turned around frighteningly simple. He thinks of long, curving roads, fog creeping along infinite moors, the heaviness of gravestones in an abandoned cemetery. He thinks of how gray is dipped in obliqueness and concealment, combined with a never-ending monotony.

No wonder gray is Neil’s favorite color. 

The black cloud around Andrew successfully steers people away from him as he takes the three floors up to Neil’s classroom and waits outside for it to finish. When the door finally opens, Neil’s classmates don’t bother looking his way as they spill from the room. When the first wave finishes, and Neil hasn’t appeared, Andrew takes a step or two forward and glances inside. And frowns.

His redhead isn’t here.

Whipping away from the door, Andrew grabs his phone from his pocket and calls Neil, only to be sent automatically to voicemail. 

_Fuck._

It doesn’t mean Ichirou has him, Andrew tries to remind himself. He shouldn’t assume that an hour ago was the last time he’ll ever see Neil. That he’ll never get to see his stupid face or hear his stupid laugh again. Neil could be ignoring his phone or left it while he went running (Christ always with the running), or perhaps it’s just sitting like a dead brick in his pocket wherever he is, perfectly whole and healthy. (Okay, it’s probably 99% certain that it’s sitting like a dead brick _somewhere_ ).

But because Andrew is a fucking idiot who did this to himself, who should know better, his walk speeds up as he starts off towards the dorm. He will not run, damn it, but neither can he stop his heartbeat from slamming into his throat as he approaches the tower. He rushes up the stairs, out of breath and sweating by the time he whips open the door- and finds Neil sitting on the couch watching TV with Kevin. 

Relief spirals through him just as quickly as anger rises. “Turn on your phone,” he barks at Neil now, trying to give himself a minute to get his emotions under control. 

Neil blinks before reaching into his pocket and pulling it out. He furrows his brow as he looks down at it. Of course the thing is dead. 

“Why weren’t you in class?” Andrew demands an explanation. It’s not that Neil couldn’t walk back without him. And it’s certainly not because he’s worried. He’s just curious and annoyed by the inconvenience. That’s all. 

Neil turns back to the TV and shrugs. “I wasn’t feeling well and came back early.”

Wait…what?

Andrew blinks at the striker. Neil skipped out on class because he was sick? That sounds…entirely too well-adjusted and healthy for his rabbit. 

Andrew thinks back to the last time Neil had been sick. He’d hidden it for three days until he collapsed on the court, still protesting as they dragged him back into bed and shoved medicine down his throat. Andrew basically had to lock him inside their dorm room to prevent him from going anywhere. And now Neil is telling him that he willingly missed class to come back and rest. 

It smells like a lie. But maybe Andrew missed the signs. He races through moments from this morning and yesterday. Nothing glaring pops out. Still…

He stalks over to the couch and lifts his hand slowly towards Neil’s forehead, forecasting his movements until he can see Neil grasp what he’s about to do. His skin is warm but not feverish. Which doesn’t mean he isn’t sick, but it’s certainly nothing that would cause him to miss class for. 

So he wanted to skip. Why does he think he needs to lie to Andrew about it? 

But Neil is staring up at Andrew with his big, blue eyes and long lashes, his red mouth slightly parted, and fuck, why is he so goddamn hot? So Andrew tucks the growing seed of doubt somewhere deep and slides his hand down so that it cups Neil’s scarred cheek. 

“Yes or no?” he asks. 

And the tips of Neil’s mouth curve as he leans forward. 

Andrew leans in too, thinks he can just hear the beginning of a “yes” roll off Neil’s tongue when suddenly Neil wrenches himself back. 

Andrew freezes. 

Neil’s breath is shallow, like he’s struggling to take in air. Flickering emotions race through his eyes, too fast for Andrew to catch what they are until he lands on a watered-down version of self-mocking and sheepishness. His body language practically screams _I’m fine_. 

“Don’t want you to get sick,” he gives Andrew a close-lipped smile. 

Andrew tilts his head. Why doesn’t he just say no? Is he ashamed? Or embarrassed? Is it because Kevin’s there?

Or has Andrew unconsciously crossed some line he didn’t realize was drawn?

Then Neil is moving his head forward and rubbing their noses together, and Andrew pushes his face back, almost in a state of panic. A wave of disgust rolls through him at himself. “Don’t puke on the floor,” he says gruffly before he retreats to the bedroom and locks the door behind him. 

He leans back against it and balls both of his hands into fists to stop their shaking. Revulsion skitters across his skin like lightning. He takes deep breaths. He battles away phantom hands touching him in fear-slicked, bloody places. 

For one nauseating moment, he wonders if Neil ever gets tired of this. If he didn’t bother to say no because he just didn’t want to deal with Andrew’s games today. If it’s exhausting navigating what Andrew realizes must be an ever-changing minefield. 

He knows he certainly gets sick of it. 

_No, Andrew_ , Bee’s voice chides in his head. _This is all part of healing._ _You should not be ashamed of setting boundaries for yourself. It is your body. You have the right to ask others to respect it. And the right partner will._

When Andrew finally explained how he initiated sexual acts, Bee had only nodded her head and smiled. She expressed how pleased she was that he had figured out a way to reclaim his body. How it helped him feel in control but still acknowledged and respected the needs of his partners. 

But Andrew has to admit that the only partners he’s had before Neil have all been gay, which means he’s known what to expect. Known when to push and when to step back. With Neil, everything is different. 

He knows, for example, that his libido is stronger than Neil’s. Neil can go days without touching whereas Andrew sometimes has to stop himself from licking the sweat off of Neil’s collarbone in the middle of practice. Sometimes Neil doesn’t even realize his cravings until Andrew initiates, his pupils dilating as Andrew moves in slowly. His sexual desires just aren’t as ravenous as Andrew’s.

Or at least, Andrew assumes they’re not. 

Otherwise Neil would initiate more. Wouldn’t he?

Andrew hasn’t forgotten that Neil is demi. That he only swings for Andrew due to a strong emotional bond. When he asked, Neil vaguely explained how it had been like switching on a light after living in a perpetually dark room for so long. Andrew wonders if the switch can be turned off just as easily. He wonders if this time he’s in the dark and doesn’t know it. 

When Kevin tries to enter the bedroom later, Andrew hasn’t moved from the spot. He takes a few steps forward, unlocks the door, and ignores the raised brow Kevin gives him. 

Andrew walks over to his bed and reaches down to grab some sweats and a fresh shirt off the floor. Then he turns around to leave the room, intent on changing in the bathroom, but Kevin is still blocking the door. He glares at the taller man. 

Kevin frowns. He looks towards the living room where Neil is before looking back at Andrew. He opens his mouth a tiny amount, just enough to form a little “o” between his lips. Then he sighs, dropping his shoulders and clamping his lips shut. He goes over to his bed and flips on the lamp, grabbing some historical biography and settling down on the pillows.

Andrew waits a beat before leaving the room.

Once he’s changed, his mask is on tight. He locks down any emotions as fiercely as when he locks down the goal. But it feels like a safety net that’s unraveling. Like the ground is sand beneath him, constantly shifting and moving so that he’s not sure where he stands. Wonders if he’s sinking instead.

He thinks of dark, gray plumes of smoke rising into the air, and soot covering sullied lungs. Of a danger revealed only when it’s too late.

He’s a wall in practice that afternoon, intimidating and unmoving. He doesn’t speak during dinner, though he feels words choking and clawing at his throat. He hides himself away on the rooftop for hours, until the moon is creeping towards the other side of the horizon. 

He doesn’t look at Neil again that night. 

\---

Hmm. That guy is staring at Kevin again. 

Andrew sneaks a glance at the oblivious striker. Kevin is rattling on to him about Exy, or workout routines, or something healthy (Andrew stopped listening about five minutes ago honestly), pausing only to breathe or snap something semi-constructive at Nicky. 

Nope. He definitely hasn’t noticed. 

The gym is basically empty for the team’s mandatory twice a week session due to the ungodly hour. Which makes sense because any college kid in their right mind wouldn’t even entertain the idea of working out at this time. Any college kid except Kevin, Neil, and this guy apparently. 

Andrew’s torn between amusement and an old instinct to tell him to back off. He knows Kevin isn’t interested. But protecting Kevin from obsessive crushes isn’t his job anymore. Apparently, now Andrew’s just stuck watching this entire disaster go down right in front of him.

It’s too bad because the guy is hot. He’s wasted on someone like Kevin. 

And Andrew knows he’s not the only one who’s noticed. He can see the way Nicky is salivating, staring openly at him on the rowing machine. Boyd also keeps sneaking glances from time to time, especially when he switches stations. Even that new freshman Kyle, who hasn’t come out yet, has his eyes on him. 

But the clincher for Andrew is when Neil caught on. He’s impressed because Neil’s radar barely blips on a good day. But Neil’s been frowning at him for a while now. This guy must be really obvious.

Andrew watches as Neil turns away from the lovesick fool, dismissing him. He fiddles with his machine, and the track starts to speed up. Immediately, Neil’s gait quickens. Then, for the first time this morning, Neil actually starts running. 

Not like anyone else could tell, of course. If it had been any other Fox, you would have called what he was doing before sprinting. But for Neil? It’s barely been a warm-up. 

Something’s distracting Neil. He’s basically been on cruise this whole time. Andrew figured he was just taking it slow this morning, or that maybe Neil had finally decided to take a day off in the one area Kevin couldn’t criticize him on. But something seems to have finally motivated him. 

Christ, those legs, that stride. It’s like watching those nature documentaries, when a cheetah finally starts sprinting to take down a gazelle, or when a tiger leaps forward in the jungle. It’s powerful, graceful, mesmerizing. Andrew doesn’t understand sometimes how everyone else doesn’t stop in their tracks when Neil begins to run. 

God, look at how Neil’s face remains so calm and cool. Thoughtful, even. The monster. 

While Neil barely breaks a sweat, the guy next to him keeps inching his speed up slightly, his eyes widening at Neil’s unending stamina. 

If he only knew. 

Andrew’s lips quirk against his will, and he has to squash the ridiculous rush of pride that races through him. Stupid junkie. 

“Uh, Andrew? Are you gonna finish this set, or what?”

Andrew glares up at Kevin.

Kevin’s upside-down face smirks back. The guy on the treadmill instantly sighs. 

Andrew huffs out a breath. Okay. Enough is enough. 

He sits up on the bench and purposefully eyes the guy. To his credit, he catches on within seconds, eyes widening in the mirror at being caught. Andrew lifts a single eyebrow. _You’re being obvious. Either come talk to him or quit being a stalker._

The runner immediately blushes all the way up to the roots of his hair. 

Andrew rolls his eyes. 

Then Aaron steps in front of him, breaking up their silent conversation. “Spot me next?”

Andrew looks up at him and then nods.

He stands as Nicky approaches them, wiping a light gray towel over his face as he half-whispers, “Damn that boy is fine! How long do you think it’ll take before Kevin notices?”

The three of them look back at Kevin who has walked off to give advice to some of the freshmen. Judging by the number of eye rolls and red faces, this help is both unwanted and unappreciated. None of the upperclassmen move to intervene. 

“Forever,” Andrew says flatly.

“I can’t believe he’s back, honestly,” Aaron admits. “I seriously thought Kevin was going to die when he tore the guy’s whole workout routine to shreds that one time. Instead, he follows him around like a lost puppy.”

Nicky puts a hand on his chin and looks thoughtful. “Masochist?”

Andrew and Aaron exchange a look before they turn an identical glare on Nicky. 

“Jesus, all right! I’ll shut up. Just stop with the freaky twin thing!”

Andrew moves around the bench as Aaron sits down and lays back. He reaches up and puts both hands on the silver-toned bar.

Andrew waits. 

Aaron’s face screws up with effort, his muscles straining. After a few seconds, he blows out a breath and glares at Andrew. 

Andrew raises his eyebrow. 

Aaron huffs. 

Then Andrew shrugs. He takes twenty pounds off either side of the bar, stands back over Aaron, and smirks.

Aaron rolls his eyes and lifts the bar without struggling this time.

“So, Andrew,” Nicky begins, rolling forward on his toes as he watches Aaron lift. “Wanna grab a coffee after this?”

“Nope. Class. English Lit.”

Nicky makes a face. “Ew.”

Andrew chooses not to say that it’s surprisingly tolerable. 

“How about Neil?” Nicky asks conversationally. “Is he taking anything good this semester?”

Andrew snorts. Neil takes the bare minimum number of courses since he knows his entire future depends on Exy. A college degree is basically worthless to Neil at this point. So far he’s taking more Spanish, some ridiculous advanced math classes that he insists are fun, and a bunch of other dumb courses to fill out his reqs and skate by on. Like the Ancient Civilizations class he knows he can steal Kevin’s notes for. 

“Is he doing okay in them?” Nicky asks again. 

Andrew shrugs. Neil hasn’t received any warnings from Wymack, nor has he come home in one of his study-related anxiety attacks, so Andrew assumes there’s nothing to worry about yet. 

“So…everything’s good. You guys are good. Everything’s fine. It’s all good. Right?”

“Nicky,” Aaron snaps, a clear warning.

Andrew looks up at him now. Okay, his cousin is definitely prying. 

But before Andrew can open his mouth to tell him to mind his own business, Kevin comes stalking back.

“Hey!” he barks. “You were supposed to spot me next!”

Andrew shrugs, as Aaron smiles smugly on the bench. “Then don’t wander off, your highness, and next time you won’t lose your place.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

As the two of them begin to squabble, Andrew glances back over to see Neil has gotten off the treadmill at some point and is now on some dark gray mats in the corner, stretching to cool down. He also notices that the blank expression Neil planted on his face earlier has transitioned back into a slight frown again. 

He’s overthinking something. 

It probably has to do with whatever reason why he skipped class the other day and lied to Andrew about it. A lie that probably shouldn’t irk him so much but does. Maybe it’s because he knows whatever Neil’s agonizing himself over likely doesn’t warrant such time or attention.

And he would tell the idiot this if Neil would just ask him.

Then again, _he_ could stop being an idiot and just let Neil know.

But the twist in his gut smothers the thought before he can even fully entertain it. Because the problem is that there are answers Andrew knows could destroy him. Things that he’s heard before, over and over. Things like “sorry,” and “this isn’t working,” and “I can’t do this anymore.”

The last he hears in Cass’s voice, thin and crumpled like a used tissue as she sits across from him in the visitor’s center at Oakland’s juvenile detention facility. Surrounded by bland, gray walls and detached prison guards who tell them visiting hours are up with little care as they walk by. Listening to the sound of his last dream dying in the click of the door as she gently snaps it shut behind her. Feeling enraged by both the relief and devastation those words leave in their wake. 

He blinks back to the present and watches as Neil turns away from the rest of the room to bend down, his hands pressing flat to the floor between his feet. His long legs extend with the movement, stretching tight muscles as he holds the limber pose. He stays in it, his hamstrings probably burning from the effort, as his falling shirt exposes a small inch of skin on his stomach.

“Andrew, will you stop staring at your boyfriend’s ass for like five seconds so I can finish this set?”

Andrew scowls down at his twin. “I will gladly let this drop on your face.”

“Do it. Maybe then I can get a free pass on Organic Chemistry.”

“Aww, but then you guys wouldn’t be identical!” Nicky pouts. 

Andrew and Aaron exchange another glance. 

“Maybe you could just throw it at him instead.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Um, rude!” Nicky backs away, eyes widening. “Kevin, give them your ridiculously long list of reasons why taking me out would be bad for the team.”

Kevin gives Nicky a look before turning to the twins. “Aim for the teeth. Exy players don’t need to smile.”

“Kevin, that’s not funny. Wait, no, guys, I mean it. Put that weight down. Aaron Michael Minyard, I mean it, I will tell Katelyn- Andrew Joseph, don’t you- Ah! Neil! Oh my god, Neil!! NEIL!!!”

\---

He has to scramble, but somehow Andrew manages to clean himself up and make it to his class just in the nick of time. Afterwards, he has a couple hours to kill before his next class, so he texts Nicky a two-minute warning before he heads over to the coffee shop.

It’s this…thing they’ve been doing lately. 

Andrew thinks it’s his cousin’s not-so-subtle way of “bonding” with him, but he doesn’t really care. He just lets Nicky spend his money and usually gets the most ridiculous, sugar-drenched concoctions he can think of. 

The sky is overcast above him as he walks, the low-hanging clouds a murky gray that threaten rain. They make Andrew want to do nothing but go back to his dorm room, find his bed, and curl up and sleep. An image comes to his mind unbidden of Neil wrapped around his limbs, eyes blinking drowsily as he naps in Andrew’s bed. Though they've never tried it before, Andrew can imagine the way the bed will dip with both of their weights, can almost feel the soft tickle of Neil's breath across his chest. The thought is so tempting that he almost texts Neil before he blanches, quickly scrubbing the thought away and shoving his phone back into his pocket. 

Nicky somehow beats him inside, though his cousin is out of breath and panting as he stands in line.

“Don’t say a word of this to Kevin,” Nicky threatens as he wheezes. “I am motivated purely by caffeine and cute boys. I will literally go to my grave before letting his majesty know that I used to be a sprinter in high school.” 

Andrew snorts. 

“I mean it, Andrew Minyard. Just let me live out the rest of my college days in peace.”

When they reach the counter, a cute brunette with sun-streaked hair greets them. He’s small but lean, with freckles and a tiny mole above his lip. He bites this same lip nervously as the two of them approach. Nicky immediately perks up at the sight of him, but Andrew notices the way his eyes flick to his before darting away. 

He’s seen him here before, a few times actually. Enough for the guy to no longer need to ask Andrew for his name when he orders. Enough for Andrew to know his is Derek without looking at the neat print on his nametag.

Derek smiles after Andrew finishes his order. “Hot chocolate again? In the summer?” he teases. Then he says quietly, almost under his breath, “Don’t you think you’re hot enough without it?”

Andrew’s own breath catches for a moment. He hears Nicky choke next to him. Derek’s face flushes, and he turns away from them quickly to start making their drinks. A few minutes later, he slides a steaming hot, slate-colored mug across the counter to Andrew. It has extra whipped cream and sprinkles, even though Andrew didn’t ask.

When the barista finally gathers the courage to look back up at him, Andrew merely lifts an eyebrow in return. Then he stuffs a few dollars in the tip jar, grabs his hot chocolate, and walks off. 

“Andrew!” Nicky hisses when he slides into the seat across from him. “What was that?”

“What?” Andrew says blankly. 

“Andrew, look me in the eye,” Nicky says seriously. “Just…tell me you are not fucking him.”

Andrew snorts derisively. 

“No, no, no, you do not get to ignore me on this one. You slipped two whole guys by me, Andrew, but never again. You tell me right now if there’s anything going on between the two of you.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “I’m not fucking Derek.”

“Derek?” Nicky squeals. “You’re on a first name basis with him?”

“His nametag is literally on the front of his apron.”

“Oh my god. You’re cheating on Neil. Are you fucking kidding me? I mean, _damn_ , seriously, I get it, he’s cute, but _are you fucking kidding me_? It’s Neil!”

“I am not cheating on Neil,” Andrew hisses between his teeth, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he draws on what little patience he has. “Fucking Christ, Nicky, he’s just trying to make tips. It was an offhand comment. It wasn’t personal.”

“Um, what? Yes, it was. I didn’t see my ass getting compared to a hot beverage.”

“And yet you still tipped him anyway. Pushover.”

“What can I say? I’m weak to pretty faces.”

Andrew sighs and leans back. “We are done talking about this.”

“No, we are not, not in the slightest! Like I was saying, what about Neil?”

Andrew stifles another sigh. “What about him?”

“What do you think he would say if he saw you flirting with the cute barista at the coffee shop?”

“I didn’t flirt with him.”

“But neither did you let him down easy,” Nicky argues. 

“Probably because I don’t give a fuck what he thinks,” Andrew snaps, “but also, if he was flirting with me, which he wasn’t, I didn’t think I needed to embarrass him by turning him down in front of the entire coffee shop when I could just as easily ignore him!”

Nicky’s mouth drops open for a couple of seconds before he simply says, “Oh.” Then he nails Andrew with a glare. “But you wouldn’t, right?”

“Wouldn’t what?” Andrew grits out the words from between his teeth.

“You wouldn’t cheat on Neil. Not with the…whatever you have going on between you. Right?”

“I keep telling you, Nicky, that what happens between Neil and me is none of your business,” Andrew growls. “And if you don’t stop talking about it, I’m going to pour that entire mug of coffee on your balls and leave you to walk across campus in what looks like shit-stained pants all by yourself.”

Nicky glares at him in silence for a few seconds. Then he responds with, “Fine. But you’re still going to help me with my poetry assignment, right?”

Andrew takes the change in topic for the white flag that it is and scoffs into his hot chocolate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stupidly had to fix the spelling of the word "gray" in this chapter so many times because I had put both "gray" and "grey" everywhere LOL. 🤣
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> He sneaks a glance at Neil now. The striker hasn’t paid attention to the film once. He’d faked it for a while, his eyes glossing over as he stared at the screen dutifully. But once Matt switched off the lights, he’d quickly abandoned the act. His eyes predictably strayed over to Andrew’s frame in the dark.
> 
> Andrew is used to the way Neil drinks in every feature of his, how he can never seem to get enough. At first it was unsettling, the way those eyes seemed to see right through him. Now, oddly enough, Andrew finds it comforting. It’s another of Neil’s constants that Andrew can always count on. Like how he folds everything but Andrew’s underwear because he knows Andrew doesn’t like others touching it. Or how he always makes a fresh pot of coffee whenever Andrew wants a cup. They’re silly gestures of trust that Andrew can’t help but soak up. 
> 
> But interestingly, Neil isn’t looking at him now. He’s looking down at the couch, at the space between them. At Andrew’s hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get murky after movie night, and Andrew pops out for a drive where he thinks. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: Got sexy times happening in this one y'all! Things get a little steamy in the bedroom after Andrew/Neil talk in the first scene (but it's pretty short), and then once Andrew enters the bathroom in the second scene. Feel free to skip both if you want! Also some implied references to rape/non-con and self-harm.
> 
> Let's dive into Andrew's fears, shall we? Oh, heights you say? No, no- I mean the other ones- the ones he doesn't talk about. Yeah, those.

Andrew does not have enough ice cream for this atrocity of a movie they’re watching. Even the sight of Channing Tatum’s half-naked body isn’t enough to save it. He’s polished this pint of cookie dough off and they’re only a half-hour in. 

With a huff of frustration, he puts the empty carton and dirty spoon on the coffee table and brings both legs up closer to him. He only does these movie nights because they seem to be important to Neil. Otherwise, if Andrew had his way, he’d be swallowing a different flavor altogether right now.

He ignores the quick flash of arousal that follows the thought and takes stock of the others in the room instead.

Nicky is already tearing up, eyes welling at the screen while Aaron looks on in pure disgust. Kevin still seems surprisingly with it, despite the fact he’s holding a bottle of vodka that’s three quarters gone now. And Matt is cupping his chin with one hand, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he watches the screen, belatedly following Nicky’s direction to drink based on some stupid set of rules they’d enacted at the beginning of this disaster. 

Andrew had also started the night with a whisky of his own, but he quickly abandoned it when he saw Neil wasn’t drinking. It may not be intentional, but still. He knows what guilty pleasure he’d rather imbibe in tonight, if given the choice.

He sneaks a glance at Neil now. The striker hasn’t paid attention to the film once. He’d faked it for a while, his eyes glossing over as he stared at the screen dutifully. But once Matt switched off the lights, he’d quickly abandoned the act. His eyes predictably strayed over to Andrew’s frame in the dark. 

Andrew is used to the way Neil drinks in every feature of his, how he can never seem to get enough. At first it was unsettling, the way those eyes seemed to see right through him. Now, oddly enough, Andrew finds it comforting. It’s another of Neil’s constants that Andrew can always count on. Like how he folds everything but Andrew’s underwear because he knows Andrew doesn’t like others touching it. Or how he always makes a fresh pot of coffee whenever Andrew wants a cup. They’re silly gestures of trust that Andrew can’t help but soak up. 

But interestingly, Neil isn’t looking at him now. He’s looking down at the couch, at the space between them. At Andrew’s hand. 

Andrew fights against the immediate instinct to move it. Is there something on it? He’s pretty sure he didn’t get any ice cream on himself this time. And he knows he’s not bleeding- the cut on his middle knuckle has finally healed up after the reminder he gave Jack not to be a homophobic asshole a few weeks ago. So what could Neil be staring at? They’re just his hands- large, big, blockish. Clumsy at times. 

They’re nothing like Neil’s long, graceful fingers with their interesting ridges and marks. The proof of a life hard-won. Andrew could spend days staring at those hands, finding every cut and burn, tracing them with his fingers, his lips, his tongue. They’re not soft- not on the outside anyway. But Neil’s palms are smooth and gentle. They always handle Andrew with great care. Even now, he bets if he were to reach over and thread his fingers through Neil’s they’d- 

Wait. If he did what? 

Andrew frowns. No. That’s not- He can’t-

His lungs suddenly feel like they're being squeezed tight. He fights to take a deep breath as quietly as possible. 

What is he- Is this- 

Andrew swallows. His eyes widen.

Does he…does he want to…hold Neil’s hand? 

_Fuck._

No. No, no, no. Andrew Minyard does not want things.

But Neil Josten?

Andrew flicks a surreptitious glance at Neil’s face. Does Neil want to hold his? 

It takes him a few stunned moments to get over the initial shock of it. But he has to admit the thought panics him. There have only been a few times where the two of them have ever really held hands, and it was usually during the heat of the moment when they’re having sex. Something that was done blindly and then undone just as quickly. 

Holding hands feels…too intimate. Which is ridiculous considering everything else Andrew has done with Neil. But the idea of it is stuck there, lodged in Andrew’s throat, threatening to cut off his very breath. 

It’s too soft. And Andrew doesn’t do soft. 

But neither does Neil, Andrew thinks. And Neil is one of the toughest people he knows. So…if Neil wants to do it…Andrew might have to reconsider. 

But fear grabs a tight hold of his spine as he tries to imagine flipping his hand over, letting Neil reach out and grab it, watching their fingers interlock. It makes his breath speed up, and his pulse beat frantically. Why?

 _Because holding hands means something. It’s more than just sex. It tells others something. It lets other people assume._ _And you know what they will think._

And now there’s something gnarled, ensnared, and thrashing on the inside of his chest that he’s trying to untangle.

He doesn’t want things to change. He wants to keep what he has with Neil all to himself. For them to savor alone. People start to assume things, start to take things for granted when you do things like that in public. And others have no place in this fragile thing he’s built with Neil. 

But he has to admit he doesn’t know what Neil thinks. If maybe he wants more from Andrew. Neil never asks, never demands anything from him. Anything Neil likes or dislikes Andrew has figured out from pure observation alone. 

And this is hard for Andrew to unravel because it’s exactly this quality that Andrew appreciates about Neil. How he follows Andrew’s directions without question. How he never pushes him past what he’s comfortable with. It’s this patience that’s allowed Andrew to place his trust in him to start with. 

But it can also be frustrating for Andrew because sometimes he doesn’t know what Neil is thinking. What he actually wants. If he ever wants something specific, or if he simply acquiesces to whatever Andrew demands. If Andrew is the only one who wants anything.

Despite all of the times Neil says yes, it’s enough to make Andrew doubt him sometimes. He knows Neil has never been with anyone before, and sometimes he wonders if he agrees simply because he doesn’t know any better. 

Or even worse, maybe Neil does want something but doesn’t know how to ask. 

He sneaks another glance at him. Neil’s wrapped up in some fleece blanket that Andrew knows Matt stole from Dan. It’s thin and cheap, with a cross-section of the ocean depicted on its surface. He notes the progression of dark to light, one side of the blanket covered in shades of navy blue and indigo, moving to azure and cobalt, then aquamarine and teal, before finishing with the mint and cream caps of the waves crashing on the surface. 

For some reason, Andrew feels this gap in color between the two of them sharply. Neil, floating on the surface with the sun in his hair and splashing among the waves, while Andrew crawls in the darkness, a monster lurking in the deep. Everything dark and muted. Trapped down there, alone. 

Andrew sighs. For some reason, Bee’s voice calls to him in his mind, reminding him of the first time he’d actually answered her stupid question after she asked him, day after day in her quiet office.

> _“What’s today’s color, Andrew?”_
> 
> _“Nothing,” he snarls. “I’m not fucking Picasso, so why do you keep asking? Just because I’m gay you think I need to depict myself as all colors of the rainbow? Fuck Roy G. Biv.”_
> 
> _“There are more colors than just the seven portrayed in the rainbow,” Bee answers calmly. “There’s Persimmon, Juniper, Ochre, Mahogany, Fuchsia, Periwinkle, Jade. And those are just a few. There are hundreds more to choose from.”_
> 
> _Andrew doesn’t know what any of those colors are and he doesn’t care. He expresses this by not bothering to respond._
> 
> _“Colors can have shades upon shades, layers upon layers. And they don’t all have to represent just one thing. A color you choose today may have an entirely different meaning for you tomorrow. Just as your feelings can be one thing today and entirely different another day. It’s whatever you choose it to be, Andrew.”_
> 
> _Andrew scoffs. “I feel nothing.”_
> 
> _“And what color is nothing?” Bee asks, persistent._
> 
> _Andrew stares stubbornly at her for what seems like an eternity. But Bee is prepared to wait._
> 
> _Finally, he growls out, “Gray. Nothing is gray.”_
> 
> _Bee smiles at him. “So today is Gray.”_
> 
> _“So what? Tomorrow will be Gray too,” he sneers at her._
> 
> _“And so it might. It might be Gray for some time. But someday, another color might be appropriate." She tilts her head, the beaded chain attached to her glasses swaying with the movement. "The point is not whether a color is right or wrong, Andrew. The point is that you chose it at all.”_

He blinks when the TV starts rolling through the credits, signaling the wretched movie has finally ended. Someone sniffles, and he looks over to see Nicky crying enormous, crocodile tears into his frou-frou cocktail. 

Aaron stares at him, exasperated. “Why are we watching this if you’re just going to cry through the whole thing?” he asks.

Nicky hiccups, his drink swaying dangerously. “Because I thought it was going to be romantic!”

“The title is literally a break-up letter.”

“But it was long-distance… _hic_ …and it reminded me of Erik… _hic_ …and I thought it would have a happy ending!”

_Jesus Christ._

Andrew rolls his eyes as Nicky starts spouting off about Erik, and then Boyd feeds into it, and now Nicky’s asking him about Dan, and this entire conversation is boring Andrew to tears, and then-

And then Kevin says something, while he glares at Neil. “Yep, must be great when you can trust the people that are close to you.”

Something blares in the back of Andrew’s mind like a warning bell. What the fuck is that about? 

Andrew scowls over at Kevin. “What the actual fuck is going on right now?”

But Nicky ignores him and prattles on. “This movie is stupid. I mean there was that whole cheating part-”

“Cheating?” Matt frowns. “I don’t remember anyone cheating.”

“She had to have been cheating! I mean, she marries some other dude while she dumps Channing Tatum halfway across the world!”

This statement causes Matt to pause. “Okay, well-”

Nicky cuts him off before he has another chance to speak, throwing himself to the floor. “I would just die if Erik cheated on me!”

Andrew thinks this might be an accurate statement, only because he’d probably kill Nicky himself. Anything to avoid the months of crying that would be sure to follow.

His twin snorts and takes another route. “Aren’t you the one saying how cute guys are every minute of the day? I mean, Jesus, you started macking on Neil from day one.”

Andrew frowns.

Okay. Not a very helpful route, but it distracts Nicky, nonetheless.

He pouts at Aaron. “That’s just flirting. Doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t count?” Neil repeats, speaking up for the first time. 

“Yeah, it doesn’t count. Right, Andrew?”

Oh no. He does not like where this is going.

He glares at his sloshed cousin. “Don’t drag me into your twisted thought process.” 

To anyone else, Nicky’s eyes look wide and innocent as he stares at Andrew. “Come on! I want to know. Do you think flirting with someone else is cheating?” 

But Andrew can see through his cousin’s charade immediately. 

Andrew rolls his own eyes, intent on ignoring the man, but Nicky stares stubbornly at him, waiting. Then the rest of the room falls silent too. As if they’re all curious to see what he’ll say.

And this is exactly why he doesn’t come to these things. Because they ask him stupid questions like this and think he should be obligated to answer. Fuckers. 

Finally, he gruffly admits, “Depends.”

Aaron’s face twists. “On what?”

“On the deal you make.”

“Deal?” Kevin pipes up.

Jesus, what is this, a cross-examination?

He tries to make his explanation as quick and simple as possible. “You say you won’t do the thing, and you do it anyway, then you lied. You’re cheating.”

Nicky squints at him. “And if you don’t? Say it?”

He shrugs. “Then it isn’t.” 

Bastard. Duh.

To some this may seem like a loophole, but Andrew knows this is the reality of how the game is played. The devil is in the details; it's always the fine print that will get you in the end.

Do not assume. Do not infer. Do not take what hasn't been offered.

Aaron stares at him, and Andrew can see his brother calculating something. “But what if your partner doesn’t ask? What if they assume the two of you are exclusive?”

Andrew stares back at him for a second, and then it clicks. Ah, he gets it. 

His naïve twin brother thinks just because you’ve seen someone naked that you get exclusive ownership over them. That no one else gets to share. Maybe, because his brother is a fool, he hasn’t even had this conversation with Katelyn. Maybe he just assumes they’re each other’s only. 

“Then they’re an idiot,” Andrew tells him now, and means it. But weirdly Aaron’s mouth twists in reply, as if he’s trying to hide a smirk. Andrew glares at him in return. 

“But if you’re in a relationship-” Boyd starts now, and Andrew’s had enough.

“Cheating is stupid,” he says clearly to the room, “But so are relationships. That’s why I don’t bother with them.”

He remembers the first time some guy had tried to say they were in a relationship. How it seemed to give him this sense of entitlement, like he had some kind of claim over Andrew. It had chilled Andrew to the core. It felt like the scales were tipping, like the small amount of control Andrew had managed to gain for himself was slipping through his grasp. He gave the guy a bloody nose the next day and never talked to him again. 

From then on, Andrew always made it very clear with anyone he fooled around with. He was no one’s pet. Just because they kissed or he sometimes got them off didn’t mean they could do whatever they wanted with him. Andrew would not be controlled. Never again. 

He thinks what he says is pretty obvious, but he realizes quickly that the room has fallen silent, and they’re all staring at him with varying degrees of shock on their faces. Except for Neil. He’s grown suspiciously red, his eyes glued to the floor. 

What the fuck?

“What are you talking about, Andrew?” Nicky asks him. He’s got a strained smile pasted on his face now, and his eyes keep flicking over to Neil. He aims a disappointed glare in Andrew’s direction. “ _Relationships_ are amazing. I love that Erik is my _boyfriend_. We have a loving, committed partnership-”

Seriously? Does he have to explain everything? “If you’re just fucking someone, then there’s no strings attached. No stupid questions or trust issues or shit like that. It’s simple. Relationships are a pain in the ass.”

It's a harsh truth that no one wants to admit, but it's a truth nonetheless. Relationships are a pain to deal with - and they never work. They're a farce, a fairy tale, a temporary state of being between two people that's drenched in misery and regret. (And if it's so temporary, then why even call it something to begin with?) It's a word people hide behind to excuse the ways they hurt one another. Andrew has seen every raw, brutal version of what a relationship looks like in the real world. When life kicks you in the teeth, knocks you to the ground, and keeps you pinned there to deliver blow after blow. 

They're ugly, disappointing, and unreliable. They're lies, and broken promises, and nasty surprises.

Relationships never last.

Neil knows. He gets it. He has only to look at the horrifying, miserable excuse that was his parents for a shining example. 

And honestly, Andrew thought Nicky of all people would agree. He sees all of the pain and hard work it takes for his cousin to keep up his relationship with Erik. How he tries to deny himself seeing or touching anyone else. How he sometimes fucks it up. How he waits for Erik to call and is disappointed for days if they’re unable to connect. It’s agony and annoyance all at once from Andrew’s perspective.

But Nicky just keeps looking at him and says, “But…what about-”

“I think I’m gonna head back now.”

Andrew is startled by Neil jumping up beside him. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the distraction from a conversation that was obviously going nowhere, but why does Neil look so pale? 

“I’m feeling, um…tired,” he stumbles as he backs away from the couch. “And we have practice early and…class, so…I’ll just-”

Then he’s gone. 

It’s a “blink and you’ll miss him” move that Neil pulls sometimes when he doesn’t want to be somewhere. A nice little party trick that’s fucked with Andrew plenty of times before. But what is causing him to rabbit tonight? 

While Matt and Nicky protest, calling out to Neil, Kevin stares at Andrew and makes a motion with his hand that Andrew reads as, _uh, hello? Go take care of that. Now._

Which is really throwing Andrew off because why does he give a shit? 

But he dutifully stands up and walks out of the room. Not because Kevin told him to, but because he certainly wasn’t going to stay there without Neil. If it also happened to help him figure out what the fuck is happening with him, so be it. 

He follows Neil into their bedroom, where he closes and locks the door. Then he turns on the striker. “What is going on with you?”

Neil turns a blank face to him. “With me? Nothing.”

Andrew’s bullshit meter flies off the charts. “Right. Because all of that was normal.” He motions back towards Boyd’s suite. 

“Well they are your family,” Neil says smugly. “And Kevin. He’s never normal.”

Andrew huffs out a breath, amused despite himself. “Point taken. Matt’s yours though. I’m not claiming all of them.”

“Fine, but only because I think Dan and Matt may have adopted me at this point. The paperwork hasn’t arrived yet, but I think it’s because they want to surprise me.”

That’s when Andrew realizes Neil is nervous. He’s prattling on, something very unlike Neil unless the subject is about Exy. So Andrew calls him out on it. “You’re avoiding.”

Neil swallows hard. Color blooms in his face again as his eyes flick to the window. “It’s nothing, I just…what Nicky was talking about reminds me of a story my classmate told me about their boyfriend.”

_What?_

Andrew stares at him and decides to see where this is going. 

Neil takes a shaky breath and then continues, “Ah, you see he, um, told me about how he gets…jealous sometimes and does…things to scare other interested people off his boyfriend.”

Andrew waits, sure that Neil is going to wrap back around to an actual point. But Neil stares back at him as if he’s the one who’s confused. 

_Okay then._

“Being jealous is a waste of time. It means he doesn’t trust him. If the guy says he won’t, then either your friend is an idiot for doubting him, or the boyfriend is a liar and he’s done it before. Which would make your classmate an idiot either way.”

Neil’s eyebrows scrunch together. “What if it’s not his partner he doesn’t trust, but other people around him?”

Jesus, where is Bee when he needs her? “Doesn’t matter what other people think. If he trusts him and his partner says he won’t, then the rest isn’t important.”

“Right,” Neil says, but his tone isn’t very convincing. “So then what if…what if they weren’t?”

Andrew tries to stamp down on his feeling of irritation. What is with the twenty questions about this classmate? They’re only going to be alone in this bedroom for so long before Kevin comes back, and Andrew wants to get some dick. “What if they weren’t what?”

“Partners?”

Andrew simply stares at Neil confused as he continues on, “What if they weren’t anything? What if they had no promises between them?”

Then they sounded like fuck buddies with some serious issues. And Andrew is immediately drawn back to those guys in juvie, at the club, who thought he owed them something just because they let him in their pants. His voice is harsh as he says out loud, “Then what right would he have to be jealous? If there’s nothing between the two of them, then he has no say over any of the other guy’s choices. He shouldn’t even ask. They’re not his to own.” 

Neil stares at him for a moment before his eyes fall to the floor. 

There’s something here that is causing Andrew’s pulse to speed up. For a moment, he thinks he sees it, like a dark fin rising out of deep blue waters. It’s just a hint of it, but Andrew can feel them brushing past the edge of something he doesn’t want to name, something he keeps avoiding, something he refuses to admit is there. Something he absolutely doesn’t want to discuss. 

So Andrew shoves it all back, far and away from him as he tries to figure out why Neil seems so stuck on this. “Desperation mixed with assumptions makes for a deadly cocktail, Abram. It sounds like your friend is playing a losing game.”

“I think he knows that now,” Neil says softly. 

_What does that mean?_

There’s something wrong about this whole exchange. Something’s off in Neil’s demeanor, the way he avoids Andrew’s eyes. But Andrew doesn’t know what it is.

He tries to wait but Neil doesn’t say anything else. And suddenly Andrew is done with all of these cryptic, hypothetical psychoanalysis games tonight. 

“Either way, they sound pathetic,” he snaps. “Can we stop talking about stupid shit Nicky brought up now?”

Neil just nods his head. 

So Andrew backs him into the dresser. He pointedly stares at Neil until the striker meets his gaze once more. There it is. He sees it again- something swirling in those blue eyes, something that makes Andrew pause. But clearly Neil doesn’t want to talk about it yet. Andrew will have to wait. 

So he says what he’s been wanting to do all night instead. “I want to blow you. Yes or no?”

Neil’s head jerks back the tiniest bit in shock. His pupils flare as he stares at Andrew, eyes widening. But he doesn’t say anything. 

“Neil?” Andrew grabs his chin. 

“Y-yes,” Neil stammers out. 

_Because that sounds convincing._

Andrew just waits, watching the spinning emotions on Neil’s face. 

“Yes,” he says again, and the answer seems more solid. 

Andrew assesses him one last time but Neil stares back with a determined look on his face. Satisfied, Andrew falls to his knees. 

He grabs onto Neil’s hips and anchors him against the dresser, shoving him back so that Neil has somewhere to lean once Andrew gets started. Neil’s breath is already catching, his eyes wide as he watches Andrew undress him using only his mouth. 

Sometimes Andrew forgets just how many firsts Neil hasn’t experienced. It both delights him and leaves him with a weird sense of pride that he gets to be the one to introduce them to him. 

He watches Neil’s left hand clutch onto a dresser drawer handle while his right hand clings to the corner of the drawer itself, their grip growing tighter as Andrew slowly undoes his zipper. But his hips are already fighting against Andrew’s hands, his ab muscles flexing as Andrew licks over the shape of Neil. 

Seeing those muscles swell and contract makes Andrew’s own erection grow harder. 

Neil’s legs actually start to shake when Andrew starts pulling down his boxers, his hard erection catching on the damp cloth as Andrew licks his lips eagerly.

Then Neil’s phone starts ringing. 

_You have got to be fucking kidding me._

Andrew glares at the wretched device through Neil’s pocket. He’s going to kill whoever is on the other end. 

He fully intends to ignore it, but Neil, despite the fact that his pants are around his ankles and his cock is basically half-out, grabs the phone and answers it. “Jess?”

Of course. The fucking Foxes. 

Neil stares passively into space as a female tone rattles something off to him, her voice rising and falling through the small speaker. Andrew can’t quite hear her, but he watches a small frown start to form on Neil’s face. Then he wonders if Neil realizes he’s threaded his fingers through Andrew’s hair and is rubbing circles absently against his scalp. 

It startled Andrew at first, but now he has to admit it feels…well, not terrible.

Maybe…maybe he can get Neil to do it again sometime.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in just a minute,” comes Neil’s weary tone now. “Don’t do anything…more stupid. And stay where you are.”

He hangs up the phone and stares, aggravated, at the ceiling. “Foxes. Brian. Jack. Rob. Dumbasses.”

Andrew nods in understanding. Not that he really understands because he doesn’t know what the fuck Neil being captain has to do with other people making poor life choices, but because he knows Neil feels obligated. 

Frustrated, he snatches a cigarette from his pocket while Neil puts himself back together. He sits at the window, intent on smoking the whole damn pack, when he hears Neil call back to him. “Later?” he asks, and there’s a hopeful ring to it. 

But Andrew is irritated. With Neil, his family, the Foxes. So he exhales and pointedly turns back towards the window as he tells him, “Have fun, Captain.”

He knows Neil gets the message. The younger man doesn’t say anything more before he quietly shuts the door.

When Andrew hears it open again a little while later, he stupidly feels his heartbeat race a little faster until Kevin’s voice follows it. “I’m coming in and I’m going to bed, so you two fuckers better stop fucking now!”

Andrew rolls his eyes as the voice comes closer. 

“Also, Neil, I swear to god if you did something to my vodka, I’m gonna rip your dick off!”

Andrew stares blankly at Kevin as he bursts into the room, his face flushed but his eyes clear. He stops in his tracks when he sees only Andrew. He blinks, then looks around the rest of the room confused.

Andrew is slightly amused when he looks behind the door, then opens the closet to check. “If Neil wanted to gut you with a knife, Kev, he wouldn’t wait in the closet to do so.”

“Ah, where did he- did you guys- is everything-what-” Kevin says, coherently. 

Andrew raises a brow. “Neil’s off playing the dutiful captain, trying to get our teammates’ drunk asses home before there’s a scandal.”

“Oh.” 

Kevin stares at Andrew, then he looks off to the side. He nods once, and Andrew notices his shoulders relaxing infinitesimally. Then he quickly turns away from Andrew and begins fiddling with his bedspread, turning on the lamp beside it.

Andrew narrows his eyes. “Day?”

“What?”

Andrew glares at him. 

Kevin huffs out a breath. “Just wanted to make sure things were…okay. With…you know.” And he makes a circular motion with his hand in the air between Neil and Andrew’s cots. 

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

Kevin sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “Come on, Andrew! You know- after that whole thing you just did. In there.”

Andrew furrows his brow. What the fuck is Kevin talking about? “What?”

Kevin smacks a hand to his forehead as he lets out a frustrated growl. “After you just basically told everyone that you and Neil aren’t in a relationship!”

Andrew blinks. “Of course we’re not.”

Kevin rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”

Andrew scowls back at him. “Says the guy whose girlfriend is a ghost.”

“Thea isn’t a ghost, she just-”

“You never talk about her, never bring her up, never go to visit her, and she never comes to visit you,” Andrew rattles off his points quickly. “Feel free to point out what makes that a relationship and how you’re an expert any time now.”

“I’m not an expert,” Kevin says hotly, “I just fucking live here and didn’t want to walk into the middle of a domestic dispute!”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “No, Kevin, Mommy and Daddy aren’t fighting, so you don’t have to worry. You’ll still get all your presents at Christmas.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Kevin grabs his pajamas and moves to the door. Then he stops and lets out an irritated sigh before he grudgingly turns back. “Neil wasn’t upset?”

There it is again. That dark fin rising, the flash of sharp teeth. Blood in the water.

He has to get out before it drags him under.

Andrew glares at Kevin. “Not that it’s any of your business, Day, but no, Neil didn’t say shit about that.”

Kevin lifts a brow. “You’re sure?”

“What, do you want it written in blood? Sworn on the bible? Witnessed by two Exy officials?”

“Jesus Christ, fuck it. The two of you are idiots. You can figure it out on your own,” Kevin snaps and heads into the bathroom to change. 

The two of them avoid each other for the rest of the night. When Neil finally returns, he just gives Andrew a small, tired smile before he goes to bed.

And Andrew says nothing, but follows him shortly after. 

\---

Andrew slides into the driver’s seat of the Maserati and drives off until Palmetto is a speck of dust on the horizon, the road winding and everlasting as his mind roams. 

He can’t handle the others tonight, with their incessant chattering and meaningless worries. Even Neil can say nothing to stop Andrew as he stomps past him out of their room and down to the parking lot without a backwards glance. Not that Neil really tries. He just stares at Andrew’s retreating back, biting his cheek as he watches him go. 

There’s something rankling at Andrew, something burrowing deep and bugging him like an itchy tag on the inside of his shirt. He wants to rip it out but he can’t seem to find it. He shifts and moves in his seat, uncomfortable for reasons he doesn’t yet understand. 

The highway flies beneath him as he drives, hours drifting by as he barely pays attention to the twists and turns. He simply wanders, unconcerned with finding his way back. Andrew has always had a keen sense of direction, even if right now he feels off course.

The image of Neil rises unbidden in his mind’s eye, his eyes downcast and bottom lip caught between his teeth. Andrew makes a low noise deep in his throat and spreads his thighs wider. 

He feels at odds with himself tonight. He doesn’t want to think. He wants his brain to shut down and let him lose himself in the physical instead. His body needs to touch, he’s _craving_ it, but something doesn’t feel right between him and Neil. They’re like two broken edges of a zipper; teeth sharp and jagged, painfully stalling and catching when they try to align. Lately, they can’t seem to sync up. 

Which is odd because Neil is usually decidedly simple. He is passionate and direct about what he wants, going for it without all of the usual hang-ups and hurdles that seem to stop others. But it’s the stuff that he pushes down and away that always comes back to bite him. Things that he tries to ignore even as they blow up in his face.

And there’s something eating at him now. Something he isn’t telling Andrew. Which unfortunately means it could be a variety of things. It could be related to something stupid, like homework or relationship trouble amongst the Foxes. Something that Andrew has nothing to do with and could care less about, so Neil doesn’t waste his time. It could also be something he’s hiding from Andrew- either because he doesn’t want him to know, or because he doesn’t want Andrew to worry about it. Like that stupid surprise birthday party Neil talked Nicky out of throwing for the twins last year, thank fuck. 

Or maybe it’s something about Andrew that Neil feels like he can’t ask. 

_Neil wasn’t upset?_ Kevin’s voice rings again in his ear. _You’re sure?_

The thought is like a hand around his throat, but it’s pointless for Andrew to speculate over. He can’t worry about what Neil hasn’t told him. But he knows he’ll need to deal with it at some point. He knows they need to talk again.

But it won’t be tonight. Andrew needs distance tonight.

Which would be fine except for the fact that he still has this nagging _itch_. 

Andrew huffs, frustrated with himself. His fingers drum mindlessly on the steering wheel. He turns the radio on and switches it off just as quickly. 

This was never a problem before. Previously, he’d just go and find someone else to satisfy it, someone with no name and zero expectations who he could stick his tongue down their throat, blow them until their eyes rolled back, and leave them without a second thought. 

Someone like that guy at Eden’s. Andrew can imagine it all too easily. He’d shove him back against the alley wall and catch his lip piercing between his teeth, pulling gently. He’d thrust the guy’s hands behind his back, rub his cheek against the stubble on his chin and linger at the pulse in his throat. Then he’d get down on his knees and-

Andrew blows out a breath. This isn’t really doing anything for him. His cock doesn’t even twitch. 

It feels more like lighting a candle. While the sight is pleasant, the heat and light are controlled, detached. It barely warms him. It’s nothing like the blazing inferno he feels with Neil.

Andrew sighs and pushes the scenario out of his head. Instantly, he feels more settled.

Alone in the dark solitude of the car, he can admit that he found the guy attractive. He knows he shouldn’t be ashamed of it- and he’s not. He can admit someone is hot, like Kevin or Derek, without getting attached. It’s never been a problem before.

But now it’s different because the fact of the matter is, they’re not Neil. And this is highly concerning because there’s never been a Neil. Never been someone whose opinion actually mattered to Andrew. That would cause Andrew to feel things if they were to walk away from Andrew’s life permanently. 

And that is a problem. Because the reality is, Andrew can’t afford to think that way. Not unless he’s willing to lose something that can never be returned.

He pushes harder on the gas pedal and the Maserati roars beneath him. He drags a hand roughly through his hair. He looks across at the empty passenger seat, and mockingly thinks about how far he's come.

He remembers how painful it was to realize he was attracted to men. How horrified he’d been in juvie when he started noticing some guy’s legs, eyes glued to the flex of muscle in his thigh as he lifted weights. How his nails had dug into his skin when he snuck a glance at the long, lean lines of someone’s back in the showers. How he'd been unable to fight the desperate craving to get closer to that one shy boy in the yard, or how his traitorous heartbeat fluttered to the deep drawl of his cell mate’s voice next door. How it felt like time had stopped when that cheeky brunette had given him a long, slow once-over in the cafeteria, and Andrew felt his cock thicken and pulse in response. 

It’d made him sick to his stomach, throwing up meal after meal. Waking up shaking and sweating in bed. Adding new lines to the surface of his skin, to see if maybe he could let some of the poison out.

Because he’d been sure that’s what it was. A sickness; a disease. Something they’d obviously infected him with. Like the bite of a vampire or a werewolf; the contagion of a zombie. He just knew something mangled and grotesque was hiding inside of him, corrupting him, biding its time. A monster waiting to sink its claws into its next victim.

He’d wondered how long it would take until he became like them.

It had taken months before he began to understand that being gay didn’t equate to doing harm. That it was his choice what happened and how much he gave.

And then it had morphed into a tangled web of confusion and attraction. Long glances and stolen kisses. Bruised skin and swollen mouths. Fleeting moments and sharp whispers. Yearning and hunger and need all wrapped up in mistakes and misunderstandings and fumbling in the dark.

Andrew had learned he needed boundaries. He’d learned he could only handle so much. He’d figured out if he didn’t speak up, didn’t set the rules straight, didn’t take control, that he could get hurt in new and twisted ways than before. 

And just when he'd felt like he was starting to get it, he’d been ripped away again. Thrown into the fucked up mess that was Tilda and her drugs, and suddenly protecting Aaron became the center of his new world. 

Five months later, a car crash. Then Nicky. And Roland. And Kevin and Riko. Then Wymack, and the Foxes. A court sentence and some pills. Bee.

Then Millport. And Neil Josten. 

And Andrew suddenly remembers that his life is nothing but an ever-revolving door. 

Day folds into night and finally he has the darkness he’s been craving. It brings with it storm clouds and thundering rain. It shakes and rattles the car as he turns his wipers up to their highest speed. Lightning crackles across the sky, and Andrew revels in it.

These fantasies of Neil need to stop. Andrew is not a fool. He knows nothing can last. But he also can’t seem to force himself to move past where they are right now, to think beyond what is. If he can just stay here in this moment, then everything remains the same. Everything is _fine_ , to quote Neil’s favorite word. 

Andrew can deal with fine.

And in the safety of his car with no one else around to witness, he can also admit that he’s lying. 

When he gets back to the dorm, he immediately gets soaked the moment he steps out of the car. Once drenched he doesn’t bother to run, taking his time to cross the parking lot. He ignores the security officer who nods at him when he enters the building, and heads towards the stairs. His wet sneakers squeak as he walks, the noise echoing in the otherwise silent stairwell. There’s something slightly eerie about it in the twilight hours of the night.

When he reaches their floor, he pulls his keys out and lets himself into the room silently. He pauses to drop them off on the entryway table and slips off his shoes, shrugging at the puddle of water he leaves behind. Then he pads over to the bedroom door, opens it, and moves to the bed. He can hear Kevin snoring in the background, but he ignores him. Instead, he focuses on Neil’s sleeping form, barely illuminated by the thin strip of light from the doorway. He looks soft and warm. A shiver crawls over Andrew’s cold, wet skin at the thought of touching him. 

Only now, without spectators, does Andrew allow himself to look his fill. He lets his eyes wander. 

Here, in the cover of darkness, Andrew lets himself want. 

He wants to pull the covers back and crawl in beside Neil. He wants to shove his leg between Neil’s and run his hands up his sides. He wants to pull Neil up against his chest, tuck his face into the back of Neil’s neck and lace their fingers together.

But Andrew knows that taking those next steps will be akin to crawling through barbed wire. He’ll have to peel himself back, let the barbs sink into his flesh and rip him apart until he’s split open, exposed and vulnerable to Neil. He doesn’t know what would happen if he tried. But he knows he can’t take the risk. 

Andrew can’t have nice things. He should not expect it.

He knows he cannot have Neil. Not forever. He should not expect it. 

So he nabs his pajamas from the top bunk and goes into the bathroom instead. He blasts the shower until steam fills the room and his teeth are chattering as he steps under the spray. 

And though he tries not to, he can’t help himself from imagining what would have happened if Neil had woken up. How Neil would have followed him into the bathroom. How Andrew would have pulled him into the shower. How they wouldn’t have been able to keep their hands off each other.

Andrew closes his eyes under the spray of water as the vision becomes clear.

They’ll kiss softly to start. Neil resting his arms around Andrew’s neck, while Andrew lazily runs a hand over Neil’s back. Neil will drop his head to Andrew’s shoulder, his eyes still blinking sleepily even as he smiles. Those lips will start mouthing at Andrew’s collarbone as he runs hands over Neil’s chest, thumbs tweaking his nipples, dusting over the scars on his stomach, and pressing into the indent of his hips.

He’ll grab onto them and jerk Neil forward, startling a gasp out of the younger man. He’ll walk them back until Andrew’s back hits the wall, Neil’s legs pushed open by his own. Then Andrew will slide his hands down until they cup Neil’s ass. He can almost hear Neil’s moan now, the sound low and long. 

Andrew will press his fingers into the indents where Neil’s ass meets his legs, slowly pulling him apart until he’s exposed. His finger will circle Neil’s opening, teasing at him relentlessly, not stopping even when Neil begins to whimper. 

He’ll rub his nose into the cleft below Neil’s ear and whisper, “I want to finger you.”

“Yes,” Neil will whisper back, his eyes wide and pupils blown, hands sliding into Andrew’s hair reverently as he starts kissing up his neck. Or maybe he’ll hide his face as he mumbles the word into Andrew’s skin, hips undulating helplessly at the thought.

Andrew leans back against the wall of the shower and grabs hold of his hard cock, his hand pumping slowly.

Andrew will grab the lube and spread some generously on his hand. He’ll wrap his other arm around Neil’s waist to hold him steady. Then he’ll slide one finger up the crease of Neil’s ass, long, wet strokes that’ll have him keening before finally sliding inside. 

Neil’s mouth will drop open, a soft gasp leaving his lips. Andrew will feel him shiver, will kiss the goosebumps covering his shoulder as he begins to move, working Neil open, pressing deep. He always loves how surprised by the pleasure Neil is.

It won’t take long for Neil to start moving against him, trying to press himself down on Andrew’s finger but becoming frustrated because he’s trapped in the cage of Andrew’s arm. It’ll only make him grow harder, his cock jerking against Andrew’s hip with each movement. 

After a bit he’ll squirm, moaning “Andrew. More.” 

Andrew starts pumping his hand faster. 

He’ll finally slide another finger inside, scissoring Neil open, feeling him jerk when Andrew brushes past his sweet spot. He’ll fuck Neil with his fingers slowly, adding a third and setting a rhythm that Neil follows helplessly, abandoning himself completely to Andrew. Andrew will watch as his head drops back, mouth falling open as his entire world narrows down to the wet, hot rhythm of Andrew’s fingers pressing deep inside him, and his body clenching around it. 

But it won’t be enough. Andrew knows it won’t, will feel the telltale dig of Neil’s fingernails into his back as the whimpers start again. “Drew,” he’ll choke out. “Fuck me. Fuck me now.”

And because Andrew will be so close, will want it just as much, he’ll whisper back, “Put your legs around my waist.”

Neil’s breath will catch as Andrew lifts him, and he’ll smirk because he knows how much Neil secretly loves it when Andrew manhandles him. He’ll press Neil’s back into the wall, and Neil will immediately wrap his strong, toned legs around Andrew’s waist. Andrew will stroke himself once or twice, mixing lube and precum over his cock until it’s slick. He’ll position himself just right, then lean back so he can find Neil’s eyes. And watch his face explode with pleasure when Andrew slides inside. 

His hand is a blur on his own cock now, squeezing and desperately trying to mimic the feel of Neil on that first thrust, though he knows he can get nowhere close. He can hear himself panting as the fantasy builds.

He won’t be soft. He’ll throw them into overdrive, slamming into Neil with hard thrusts that has their skin slapping, the wet, crude sounds of it echoing off the tiled walls. It’ll cause Neil to try and push back against him, digging his heels into Andrew’s lower back, but he won’t have the leverage. He’ll be entirely at Andrew’s mercy as he drives into him again and again. At some point, Andrew will grab Neil’s hand and put it on his cock, so he can watch him pull and stroke himself to the rhythm of Andrew’s hips. 

His breath will catch, higher and faster as he babbles nonsensically. “Yes, yes, Drew-more-so good, so good-harder-just like that-ah, I can’t-fuck, Drew-mmm, mmm, yes-”

And Andrew will feel himself getting close, his arms burning and his ass clenching with every thrust. He’ll drive them higher and higher, Neil’s cries becoming more high-pitched until he’s almost screaming, “Drew, I’m cumming, oh god, I’m cumming-”

And Andrew will lean forward and capture Neil’s lips with his own just as the younger man cums. Neil will groan into his lips, causing them to buzz, his body tightening around Andrew as his hips shake. It’ll be just enough, so hot and tight and wet and good, that Andrew will- he’ll-

And suddenly, Andrew is cumming hard. Thick ropes of it splatter over his stomach and chest as his hips jerk. He keeps pumping himself, shuddering as the waves of pleasure hit him again and again until it's nearly painful and he finally lets go. 

He leans against the wall, suddenly feeling exhausted. Then he looks down in distaste at the mess he’s made of himself. 

Even with Neil sleeping a room away, doing absolutely nothing, Andrew wants him with an intensity that he can’t deny.

He washes away these wants, wishes, and urges until he feels stripped clean and empty. Then he watches them slowly circle before they go down the drain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Andrew. 😢 A lot to unpack here, y'all. 😓
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> Neil cries out again and this time Andrew watches Kevin kneel down on the other side of him. Usually he stands off to the side and lets Andrew handle this, but something seems to pull at the man at the sound of his name. He doesn’t touch Neil, but he calls softly to him, trying to let him know that he’s okay, that everything’s a dream. 
> 
> Andrew has no patience for such gentle tactics.
> 
> “Abram, snap out of it,” he says again, louder. “You’re dreaming. Wake up.” 
> 
> And Neil’s eyes suddenly burst open as he lets out an enormous gasp, as if he’s just emerged from water and his body is fighting for air. As if he were this close to drowning. Andrew almost expects to see water dripping around him, he’s breathing so hard. 
> 
> Wait, fuck, no. That’s the problem. He still can’t breathe.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's better than playing stickball against the toughest team in the league, hearing Ichirou threaten Neil, and having things dredged up from the past that everyone hates? Having all of it happen on top of a Bad Day™. 
> 
> Oh, did I say better? I meant worse. Andrew's such a lucky guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: implied references to rape/non-con, abuse, and animal cruelty. (All super vague, nothing descriptive, but the allusions are there). 
> 
> Me to Self: BUT WHY????  
> Also Me: *tears streaming down face* I don't know...*posts*

They lose spectacularly.

Some asshole in the NCAA decided that it would be a great idea to pit the top two teams in the league against one another for their first game, and the Trojans trounce them. 

To Andrew, it only shows how rough the Foxes start each season. They're biting, snarling, kicking at one another, wild things trapped together in a cage. It's going to take them a bit to find their rhythm, and there's nothing they can do to accelerate that, despite what Neil thinks. 

Andrew watches Carlos give up two, three, four goals in succession and tries not to wince. He plays the first and fourth quarters now, at Wymack and Neil's insistence, only being brought out to play longer games in times of great need. And despite everyone seeing how the game is going (and Kevin's obnoxious whining), Andrew doesn't take the field in the third quarter. 

Wymack had turned to him, a question in his eyes, and Andrew had nodded. He would enter the goal if they needed him to. But he can't say it. Not today. 

A muted, gray blanket has rolled over Andrew this morning and smothered him ever since. Words have been locked inside of him since the nightmares took hold, their timing impeccable as always. It’s the first game of the season, and Andrew is barely responsive, fighting to pull enough of himself together to make it through classes and be present at the game. Because Neil needs him.

But Neil shakes his head when Wymack turns his questioning brow on him. He is stubborn about Andrew's health, and today only causes him to be even more fiercely protective of him. He snaps and pushes aside anyone who gets too close to Andrew. It's stupid and annoying. 

No one has ever looked out for Andrew's well-being like this. 

He's also somewhat surprised at how much the loss irks him. He doesn't show it outwardly- he's not pacing the sidelines like Kevin or throwing his hands up and cursing like Matt or Aaron. But there's a slight twitch in his fingers as the goal lights up red again and again. It makes him want to shove Carlos out of his goal, push him aside, and shut the other team down on principle. 

But he doesn't question Neil's actions. Not even when the final buzzer sounds and there are two very uneven numbers on the scoreboard.

Neil's face is pained but silent.

Jeremy is magnanimous as he shakes Neil's hand, offering them a jovial "better luck next time!" that has Kevin wincing. The Trojans' captain lingers, eyes straying briefly towards Kevin before clearing his throat and moving past them. He purposefully finds Andrew to give him a brilliant smile and a wave. Andrew notices his tiny waist and his startling gray eyes. He ignores him.

Jean says nothing as the team exchanges handshakes, but he has a look on his face that tells Andrew that he's going to come find them later. French bastard.

Neil and Kevin wearily head over for press duty, both standing tall with their heads held high as they face the music. 

The press isn't kind.

They ask direct questions on how the Foxes played, what they think their chances for the season are, some of their expectations for the new talent on the team. But there are only two questions that stick out in Andrew's mind, though. 

"Kevin, tell us, is tonight's result an indicator of things to come now that the Foxes are under Neil Josten's leadership? With championship captain Danielle Wilds now graduated, have the Foxes lost their magic touch?"

The question stings even without a response. It has Andrew fisting his hands, an overwhelming urge to run out and punch the reporter rising within him. 

On the screen, Neil bristles, but Kevin doesn't blink. "No. This has nothing to do with Neil's leadership skills. Neil is extremely competent and has several seasons' worth of experience with the Foxes, including being directly tutored by Dan Wilds during her time here. There is no one else on our team I would trust to take up the mantle other than Neil." He clasps a hand onto Neil's shoulder, which jolts a bit at the unexpected contact. "What you see tonight is nothing more than the initial stumbling of a team with lots of new blood. We'll find our footing; then the Trojans will have something to be worried about when we come to their Court."

Kevin's ending smile is photo-worthy, his head cocked to the side and a challenge lighting his eyes. It's the look of a champion, the son of Exy born and raised. He is gracious and self-assured as he defends Neil and lays the challenge down at the Trojans' feet. The cameras flash eagerly, and Andrew knows the photo is going to be one that sticks with Kevin for the rest of his career.

Neil looks briefly stunned before it's wiped away. He nods almost imperceptibly at Kevin as the asshole reporter continues. 

"Neil, it's obvious to everyone how the game changes when Minyard is in goal. We've heard several rumors that he's being sought after by the Chicago Pistons and is in talks to leave PSU early to join their ranks. Can you confirm or deny this?" 

Andrew nearly snorts. It's a blatantly false rumor, and he waits eagerly for Neil to shut it down.

Neil freezes before his mouth twists unhappily. "It's not my place to comment on what Andrew's future plans are, regarding Exy or otherwise. You'll have to ask him if that's a decision he's making."

Andrew frowns. It's not quite the brush off he was expecting. It feels too open- as if he's purposefully being elusive. The reporters can sense it, too, going after him like sharks catching the scent of blood in the water. 

"Does this mean the rumors are true?"

"So there's a chance that he may be considering?"

"Is this a direct result of your being named captain, Josten? Is there bad blood between the two of you?"

"What will happen to the Foxes then? Do they even stand a chance without Minyard in goal?"

Neil's eyes harden. "Of course, we stand a chance. As good as Andrew is, and as lucky as we are to have him, he's not the only one out on that field. It's called a team for a reason- there are five other players who are just as responsible for the outcome of the game as he is. Though I'm not surprised if you can't see that with your head shoved so far up your ass. By the time you manage to pull it out, you might be in time to watch us crush someone in the championships. Because you can bet, we'll be there." He bares his teeth in a feral grin. "With or without Andrew." 

He walks off at this statement, letting Kevin finish out the niceties.

Andrew rubs damp hands on his thighs and frowns. Neil's last sentence replays in his mind. 

_With or without Andrew._

It's clearly directed as a rebuttal to the reporter's thoughtless comment. A pissed-off Neil deliberately making a point. So then why does it feel so ominous?

He's waiting for Neil as he stomps into the lounge. The rest of the team is inside the locker rooms getting changed, so they have a brief moment of privacy where Neil simply shakes his head. Then Kevin and Jean walk in behind him. 

"Jesus, we can't go through another game like that!" Kevin snaps. "That was humiliating!"

Jean tilts his head. "It wasn't the best showing, I'll admit. Your new goalie is greener than we expected, and your dealers are a weak spot now that Wilds and Reynolds are gone." 

Andrew watches Neil close his eyes briefly when Jean begins talking, the Frenchman's mere presence kicking up cobwebs Neil would rather leave undisturbed. Andrew glares at Jean in return. 

"We have to put Andrew in longer," Kevin starts, a worn-out argument that has Neil digging in his heels immediately. 

"No," he snaps. "We have to learn to do better as a team. Andrew can't play whole games. He won't if he decides to go pro, and we won't have him forever. I will not allow this team to use him as an excuse for poor performance."

They're ripped off quick, like a bandage, but the words still leave a lingering sting in Andrew's chest that has him reeling. Neil was thinking ahead. About his future. About _Andrew's_ future. About a future at PSU that didn't include Andrew. 

There's a lot to unpack in those few sentences that Andrew doesn't think he can address right now.

He says nothing as Kevin and Neil continue to bicker, with Jean throwing in a comment now and then, until suddenly Neil's phone rings. 

Neil looks over at it in confusion. Andrew had taken the liberty of actually grabbing the thing and plugging it in so that it would charge during the game. But now, he curses himself for doing so because he watches Neil's face fall as he realizes who is calling him. 

He flips it open, takes a steadying breath, and says, "Good evening, my lord."

Andrew, Kevin, and Jean all freeze. Neil glances once at them before walking out of the lounge and into the hallway. 

Kevin looks like he's going to be sick. "He’s going to kill us. Neil and me. It was tonight’s game. He doesn’t think we’re worth the investment.”

“Shut up,” Jean snaps. “It’s only the first game of the season.”

“But he’s never called before when we’ve lost!” Kevin retorts. “He could easily have changed his mind.”

“He’s not like Riko,” Jean says flatly. “He’s done nothing to indicate he’s going to break the deal he made with Neil.”

“ _Yet_ ,” Kevin emphasizes. “And it’s a deal that doesn’t cost him anything to break!”

“We’re lucky he even made it, to begin with,” Jean answers, dismissive. “He knows how close you and I both were to Riko. If it weren’t for Neil, we would both be dead already.” 

Kevin whimpers, stepping back as if Jean has struck him. 

Jean glares at him unmercifully. “ _Vous devez voir cela différemment, mon ami. Au lieu de compter les jours qu'il vous reste, vous devriez être reconnaissant pour les jours qui vous ont déjà été accordés. C'est plus que ce que chacun de nous aurait dû avoir_.”

Andrew huffs. Stupid French. He hates that he can’t understand it. He focuses on Jean’s pronunciation, the specific way he slurs his consonants so that he can try and reiterate it to Neil later to translate. 

But despite him not knowing the language, he clearly expects Kevin to buckle at whatever sharp comment was made. Instead, Andrew watches Kevin square his shoulders, his eyes turning cool as he responds, “ _Pardonne-moi de ne pas réaliser que le droit de vivre doit être mérité_.”

Fucking goddamn French. Andrew seethes as he stares at the two of them. 

Jean snorts and looks like he’s going to argue some more, so Andrew steps in. He’s had enough. He places himself between the two former Ravens and glares back at Jean, his eyes a warning for him to back down. Jean doesn’t move, sneering down his nose at Andrew, purposefully goading him.

Andrew juts out his chin, a silent dare for him to step forward and try it. He runs two fingers up the inside of his forearm.

Now it’s Jean’s turn to open his eyes wide. He flicks them down to the floor for only a second before his arrogance returns like an invisible shield. He huffs, crossing his arms and holding his head high as he leans back against the wall. 

That’s when Neil steps back into the room. They all turn to him. 

Neil’s expression is blank as he looks at Kevin. “He says we have work to do. And that we should get started if we want a shot at reaching championships this year. Which he expects.”

Kevin pales. 

Neil turns to Jean. “He wanted you to know that you played excellently today, Jean. He specifically said to tell you, ‘good game.’” 

Jean swallows and then nods. 

“That’s it.”

Neil strides past them into the locker room. Andrew follows. 

Most of the team is finishing up, so the locker room clears out quickly when they enter. Neil ignores everyone as he grabs supplies and heads off to the showers. 

Kevin comes in shortly after and looks like he’s going to say something when Andrew turns and glares at him. Kevin scowls, but his expression is shuttered. He closes his mouth.

Instead of showering, he grabs his bag and leaves. Andrew instantly knows he’ll be staying at Wymack’s tonight. 

Andrew takes his time in showering and getting dressed, but Neil still hasn’t finished by the time he’s done. He sits on the bench to wait and leans up against the lockers. Finally, Neil emerges.

Neil sees him but doesn’t acknowledge his presence. He simply walks over and drops to the bench. He hunches over, his elbows dropping to his knees and his head in his hands as he’s suddenly fighting to breathe. 

Andrew is next to him in seconds, kneeling in front of him. He wants to put his hand on Neil’s neck, knows the touch would soothe him, but today he can’t. Today…is a bad day. 

Instead, he puts his hands on either side of the bench, caging Neil in as he looks on helplessly. Neil puts his own hand on the back of his neck but lets out a frustrated noise as if his hand is a poor substitute for Andrew’s. He doesn’t look at Andrew as he whispers, “He said not to disappoint him. That it doesn’t matter to him if all three of us make it or not. That games like tonight are enough to make him second-guess.”

Andrew digs his nails into the bench as rage courses through him. How like Ichirou to call and intimidate Neil on a game that is meaningless and half-based on chance. As if Neil has any control over the motivation and performance of others. Players whose lives don’t depend on a stupid game. 

But if Andrew is honest with himself, he knows the game is just an excuse. It’s been a while since the last time Ichirou called, so Neil was unfortunately due. The yakuza lord was simply checking up on his investment in his own twisted way.

He wonders if Neil realizes it’s a mark of respect that Ichirou calls him personally. It means he sees Neil as a potential threat; powerful enough to deserve his personal time and attention. 

He also wonders if Kevin ever feels miffed that Ichirou doesn’t choose to speak with him. If he even understands the implication of it or if he’s just glad he’s not the one taking the calls. 

Andrew is petty enough now to wish Kevin sometimes would because, like usual, Neil shields them from the truth. That the Lord is unhappy. That he’s holding their feet just a little closer to the fire for a moment to remind them how perilous their position is. 

As if Neil ever forgets. 

He’s shaking now, just a slight tremor that causes Andrew to slap the top of the bench. The noise makes Neil’s face jerk up. He meets Andrew’s eyes. 

Andrew forces himself to speak, wringing the words from his tongue as he says, “It’s just one game.”

“But-”

“You will not worry about something that hasn’t happened,” Andrew whispers firmly. “You won’t let it happen. Kevin won’t let it happen. I won’t let it happen.”

Neil closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath and nods his head.

The air feels hot and strung out between them. Andrew lingers, his stomach twisting. His body itches to reach out to Neil, to calm and reassure him. But his mind rejects the thought immediately. Between today’s skeletons and the weird vibes the two have experienced lately, he’s feeling precarious and unsure of where they currently stand. 

Neil opens his eyes and watches him. Waiting. 

Andrew stands up and steps back before heading towards the locker room door. “Get dressed,” he commands simply before he walks out.

There’s nothing more he can do today. Nothing can make this better for either of them.

All he can do is be there for the fallout. He knows inevitably that Neil will have nightmares tonight. That they’ll both sleep restlessly, the people who’ve hurt them crawling out of the grave to destroy them once more. 

But Andrew will glue Neil’s pieces back together time and again if he’ll let him. And he can only hope Neil will do the same for him in return.

\---

Someone is standing by Andrew’s car when he reaches the parking lot. His back currently faces Andrew, but he’s clearly waiting. Andrew is in no mood for some Exy-obsessed fan, though, so if this guy wants an autograph, he's chosen the wrong day for it.

When he's only a few steps away from the car, the guy turns, his mouth pulling into a half-smile that tugs at Andrew’s memory. 

“Hey, Andrew. Remember me?”

The kid can’t be much younger than him, only a year or two at most. He’s got a high-top fade that’s mostly hidden beneath a ball-cap. His eyes are a rich, medium brown, like the red sands Andrew saw in a book on Monument Valley. He’s a full foot taller than Andrew, but he moves like a live-wire, energy bursting from him in nervous twitches and shifting feet.

Then Andrew sees the starburst-like scar on his temple, near his ear, and images of Oakland come rushing back. Of a run-down trailer with seven kids stuffed inside. Of a husband with grabby hands and a wife that gave Andrew cheap cigarettes to shut him up. And a little boy that followed him around like a duckling. 

“Tyler,” he says.

And now a real smile blooms on the kid’s dopey face. “You do remember.”

Andrew grunts. He remembers everything. 

“Nice game, by the way.”

Andrew doesn’t care. “What do you want?”

The kid shrugs and the way he ducks his head and rolls his shoulders reminds Andrew instantly of Neil. “Just here to see you play. Heard you were good. Managed to convince a few people to come with me.”

He nods his head towards a bunch of kids off to the side. Andrew barely flicks them a glance. They’ve clearly traveled up from another college, the laughing group sticking out like a sore thumb in their navy blue and yellow paraphernalia amongst all the orange and white.

Andrew turns away from Tyler. He takes a cigarette out and sits on the hood of his car, lighting one up. 

Tyler stares at him for a moment. “You still smoke?”

Andrew doesn’t bother answering questions that are obvious. 

Tyler clears his throat, then looks down at his shoes again. “I just…wanted to thank you,” he says quietly. “After you left, they got an anonymous tip that shit was going down at the Millers, and child services came in.”

Andrew takes another drag on his cigarette and says nothing. 

“After that, we all got split up, and…well, I actually found a good home. One where we actually mattered to the people who lived there. One like we always talked about.”

Andrew doesn’t look at him. “And why should I give a shit?”

“Because it would never have happened if you hadn’t made that call.”

Andrew taps the end of his cigarette, watching ash fall to the ground. “What makes you think it was me?”

Tyler takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “Because they knew exactly where the paring knife was, beneath the mattress. Along with the handcuffs.” His gaze falls to the armbands wrapped around Andrew’s forearms. 

Tyler is one of only two people alive who know that the very first of Andrew’s cuts on his arms were not made willingly. (The other person being Neil, of course.) 

Andrew sucks in a breath and deliberately forces himself not to crush the burning cigarette into the kid’s face. 

“Leave,” he hisses, suddenly over and done with this supposed _happy reunion_. “Now. Unless you want to give me a reason to get you a matching pair.” He gestures towards his armbands, which has Tyler swallowing and stepping back quickly. 

“Sorry, sorry, that’s not what I…” He shakes his head before sighing. “I get it, Andrew. Don’t worry; you won’t see me again. And I won’t…I won’t tell anyone what happened. Ever. I just wanted to make sure someone told you that it was…that it was worth it.” 

Andrew rolls his eyes. _Worth it_. Nothing was worth it. 

He thinks of Nicky going to those religious camps, forcing himself to act like a different person because he thought it was _worth it_ to try and save his relationship with his parents. He thinks of Neil sacrificing himself to Riko and Castle Evermore for two weeks, thinking it was _worth it_ if Proust didn’t hurt Andrew. He thinks of how he refused his brother’s letters and then sat in the passenger seat of Tilda’s car because he thought it was _worth it_ to protect Aaron and how his twin had repaid him for it. 

He can feel Tyler staring at him, but Andrew has nothing more to say.

Finally, the kid decides to go. He takes a few steps away from the Maserati before he suddenly turns back around, looking back at Andrew one last time. “I just have one question. A stupid one, really. Do you still have that crazy ice cream obsession?”

Again, a memory forces its way up out of the blue, of Andrew sprinting away from Old Man Hewitt’s outdoor freezer, hauling a pint of Heavenly Hash in his grubby hands as the man’s yells echoed behind him. He dove into the woods, past the creek and the haunted wooden bridge, until he came to a clearing hidden by a large rock. Behind it, he found Tyler crying. 

> _He’s making a racket from the way he’s sobbing. He’s probably scared off any woodland creatures for miles around. Andrew approaches him slowly, trying to make as much noise as possible, but Tyler still jumps when he sees him._
> 
> _He looks awful. There’s a mixture of snot and tears all over his face, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, and his usually vibrant, deep brown skin looking dull and ashen. He’s on the ground, his arms wrapped around his body as if he’s been trying to hug himself._
> 
> _“A-A-A-Andrew,” he sniffs. “They s-said- th-they s-said that- that B-Bauer was-”_
> 
> _Andrew crouches down on his heels next to the kid and looks off into the trees as he nods. “Yep,” he says softly. “He’s gone.”_
> 
> _The wailing starts again. Andrew says nothing._
> 
> _When Tyler can finally catch his breath, he sobs, “B-but he was fine yesterday! He was running, and his tail was wagging, and he chased me all around the park and-”_
> 
> _Andrew simply sits there and listens as Tyler goes on and on._
> 
> _Finally, he stops his monologue and looks up at Andrew through thick, wet lashes. “Why?” he croaks. “What happened?”_
> 
> _Andrew closes his eyes for a moment. He wants to say it’s because Jerry was drunk again and flew off the handle, and Bauer was just unfortunately nearby. He wants to say that it wasn’t Bauer’s fault, that it should never have happened, that even Jerry’s wife, Virginia, had been horrified when she found out about it. He wants to say that because the world is cruel and unfair, and he wanted to spare the others the ugly truth of it, he’d gotten up at three am that morning to dig a grave for the poor animal before any of the others could see what had been done._
> 
> _But none of this will make a difference. None of it will make it right. Nothing he says right now will bring Bauer back._
> 
> _So he finally settles on, “Just his time.”_
> 
> _Tyler sniffs. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he whispers._
> 
> _Andrew swallows. Then he drags the carton out from where he’s been hiding it behind his back and shoves it towards him._
> 
> _Tyler’s eyes go wide. “But isn’t this- that’s your favorite- he’s gonna kill you-”_
> 
> _“So you don’t want any?” Andrew asks, peeling off the lid and dipping a finger inside._
> 
> _“No, I do! I do!” Tyler backtracks, holding out his hands. Andrew drops the tub into them and watches as Tyler digs in, thick globs of tears still pouring down his face as his mouth becomes smeared with chocolate._
> 
> _After a bit, he pauses and looks up. “You’ll never leave me, right Andrew?”_
> 
> _“Idiot,” Andrew rolls his eyes. “Can’t promise shit like that. We’re foster kids. We have no say where the hell they put us.”_
> 
> _“I’ll go wherever you go, Andrew,” Tyler says defiantly. “They can’t split us up.”_
> 
> _“You won’t do fucking shit.”_
> 
> _“Yes, I will!”_
> 
> _“No, you won’t,” Andrew spits out. “If you get the chance to get out, you go. And don’t look back.”_
> 
> _Tyler frowns. “But…I don’t want to leave you.”_
> 
> _Andrew shrugs. “Everyone leaves at some point.”_
> 
> _Tyler looks down at the ground. His battered shoe kicks at a twig beside it. “You’ll miss him, right? You loved that dog even more than me.”_
> 
> _Andrew sucks in a breath._
> 
> _He thinks of how he snuck the mutt his table scraps, like the stupid burnt carrots that are always somehow still half-frozen from the freezer, and the way his teeth gently nipped the treasures from his palm. He thinks of the way they took naps in the summer, both of them lying on the sweet-smelling grass in the warm sunlight. He thinks of how he’d cuddle up against Andrew at night, licking his face as his tears dripped onto the fake tile floor._
> 
> _Then he thinks of the way his chest burns right now, how it’s broken and aching, and how he’s left with nothing but the dirt under his fingernails to acknowledge that Bauer was even here. That he had existed at all._
> 
> _He thinks that if this is what it feels like to love something and lose it, then it’s better off never becoming attached at all._
> 
> _So he swallows thickly, pushing back his own tears as he chokes out, “Nope. I hated him.”_
> 
> _“What?” Tyler cries. His eyes are growing wet once more. “What do you mean? I don’t get it.”_
> 
> _Andrew shakes his head. “One day, you will.”_
> 
> _And suddenly, Tyler starts crying again, his mournful howling filling the forest clearing as Andrew stays next to him, silent._
> 
> _The next day, Andrew was gone._

Andrew shakes his head, the memory aching like fingers digging into sore muscles. “What the fuck do you care?” he snarls in response. 

Tyler is taken aback. “Shit, no reason. Sorry I even mentioned it.”

Andrew clenches his jaw. 

Tyler shakes his head, fingers coming up to scratch the back of it. “I thought...god, I thought you might have mellowed with time, man. I mean, you were always so intense, even when we were kids, but- fuck, Andrew. If this is how you treat people normally, then what the hell would you say to someone you like?”

Andrew snorts, irritated and exhausted and ready for this conversation to be over. His eyes snag onto the sight of Neil heading their way. He, too, is obviously tired, the usual pep in his step washed away by the events of today. But still, there's something about him that pulls Andrew immediately. 

Neil catches Andrew’s eye and looks over at Tyler warily. 

And before he can stop it, Andrew’s treacherous mouth opens and betrays him. “I'd tell them ‘I hate you.’”

Immediately, he freezes. The implications of what he's just admitted roll through him, and it feels like the bottom of his stomach drops out. Though it's far too late, he has the sickening urge to clap a hand over his mouth. 

It's bad because even though the answer's flippant, he knows it's true. Andrew speaks nothing but the truth, and this time is no different. It's horrible because he didn't mean for it to slip out. He'd let pettiness and fatigue control his tongue, and now he's paying for it. It's the worst because he wants to take it back. He wants to rewind time for just a few seconds so he can snatch the words out of the air, shove them back down his throat, and swallow them - so they can remain locked in his chest for all eternity. 

He tries to focus on his breathing, forcing the air in and out of his lungs, pushing the encroaching darkness back. He swallows, though his tongue is suddenly paper-dry. He quells the sudden tremor in his hand by gripping his knee tighter. 

Luckily, Tyler is oblivious to Andrew's distress. His eyebrows squish together for a moment, confused before he turns and sees Neil walking towards them. Then his eyes light up, widening, and a grin spreads obnoxiously on his face. “Ah, I get it,” he murmurs under his breath, so quietly that even Andrew almost doesn’t hear him.

But he does. And he feels the way the words linger, ringing in his ears and echoing in his bones.

Tyler turns and gives Neil a quick wave that Neil doesn’t respond to before heading back towards his friends. Andrew can't seem to stop himself from watching Tyler go, knowing that this will be the last time he ever sees him. He doesn't have the energy left to tell if this is a good thing or not. 

“Who was that?” Neil asks, eyeing up Tyler's retreating figure. 

Andrew still can't breathe. His chest is so tight, he can barely draw enough breath to stay conscious; forget talking.

He shrugs and hopes Neil will accept that as an answer. He doesn’t want to explain, to pull up more memories on a bad enough day as it is. He wants Tyler to retreat into the past, a ghost from a place he’ll never return to, where he was a person he can never forget.

So he doesn’t answer. He just discards his cigarette butt on the pavement before walking around to the driver’s side of the Maserati. He unlocks the door and slides in. 

Neil follows him a few seconds later.

Andrew starts the car and heads out of the parking lot. It feels like there's a lead ball in his stomach, weighing him down, pinning him to the seat. He wants to forget this day ever happened, but he knows he won't have the luxury. So he's going to do the next best thing: ignore it.

_So much for healthy coping mechanisms, right, Bee?_

They ride together in silence, both apparently lost in their thoughts, all the way back to the Tower.

\---

“No, no, stop- no - no, _Drew._ ”

Andrew wakes up immediately to the sound of his name. In seconds, he’s off the bed and down the ladder. 

He’s momentarily blinded when Kevin switches on the light, but he finds Neil quick enough. He’s somehow made it to the floor this time, his sheets tangled around him as he fights something off. His limbs are flailing as his voice gets worse. 

“STOP, no, don’t touch him- ANDREW- don’t you- fuck, no- wait, not Kevin- stop, I said STOP- NO DREW NO STOP NO GOD STOP-”

“Neil, wake up. Right now.” Andrew says, making his voice curt and loud. Something even-keeled and steady versus the horrible begging that Neil is doing. His tone makes Andrew’s chest hurt, makes his stomach nauseous as the younger man pleads for some mercy that Andrew knows isn’t coming. Not in his dreams, and not in real life. 

It’s the fifth nightmare he’s had in less than two weeks, thanks to Ichirou. And Andrew can tell they’re escalating. He sees how much longer it takes for Neil to recover each time, can tell from the haunted look in Neil’s eyes that the content is getting worse. It’s a backwards sliding scale that is starting to concern Andrew. He hasn’t seen Neil this bad in a while.

Neil cries out again, and this time Andrew watches Kevin kneel on the other side of him. Usually, he stands off to the side and lets Andrew handle this, but something seems to pull at the man at the sound of his name. He doesn’t touch Neil, but he calls softly to him, trying to let him know that he’s okay, that everything’s a dream. 

Andrew has no patience for such gentle tactics. 

“Abram, snap out of it,” he says again, louder. “You’re dreaming. Wake up.”

And Neil’s eyes suddenly burst open as he lets out an enormous gasp- as if he’s just emerged from water and his body is fighting for air. As if he were this close to drowning. Andrew almost expects to see water dripping around him, he’s breathing so hard. 

Wait, fuck, no. That’s the problem. He still can’t breathe. 

Andrew surges forward. He gets right up in Neil’s face so that he has nowhere to look but into Andrew’s eyes. They’re so close that Andrew can taste Neil’s breath. He grabs Neil’s hand and lays it on his heart while his other hand wraps around the back of Neil’s neck.

It’s like some sort of release. Instantly, Neil sucks in a ragged breath. 

“That’s right, Neil,” Andrew says now. “Breathe along with me. Come on.” He purposefully takes a long, deep breath and watches Neil struggle to copy him. He repeats the process, holding for a couple of seconds longer, and Neil follows. They do this for several minutes as Kevin sits back and watches. 

Slowly, Neil begins to calm down. Then a new tension takes hold of his shoulders.

“Kevin?” he asks suddenly, reaching backward blindly. 

Kevin draws closer, and the two of them clasp forearms. “I’m here. I’m fine, Neil. I’m not hurt.”

Neil shudders before finally fully relaxing. 

His head falls forward, nearly dropping to Andrew’s shoulder before he catches himself. His eyes are much more aware, no longer searching the room frantically. And the awful tremors that had taken over his whole body have stopped.

He suddenly looks exhausted. 

It’s in that instant that Andrew feels an ache right in the center of his chest. It’s painful and insistent. There’s something about Neil right now that makes him want to do something. 

Something incredibly foolish like sweep Neil fully into his arms and crush him against his chest. Spear his fingers through his hair and whisper soft nothings into his ear. Stroke the long lines of his back and tangle their feet together. Let him listen to the steady beat of Andrew’s heart. 

But Andrew doesn’t do comfort. He doesn’t know how. Wouldn’t know where to begin. 

Then Neil makes some noise in the back of his throat, something anguished and broken that he cuts off half-way through that nearly destroys Andrew. 

He has to do something.

So he takes a deep breath. He opens his mouth. 

“I think I’ll go take a shower,” Neil cuts him off, wincing as he withdraws from them both suddenly.

Though he whispers, the words are as loud as a shotgun in the quiet space. It startles Andrew, instantly making him clam up.

Neil doesn’t notice. He crawls forward, getting to his feet and stumbling a bit as he makes his way towards the bathroom. Andrew and Kevin are silent as they watch him. 

It’s only once the door is fully shut and locked that Kevin turns to Andrew.

“This has to be what, the fifth time now?”

“I know.”

“Will he talk to Bee? Or Wymack? Or…I dunno, someone? He should be talking to someone, right?”

Andrew snorts. “If he were willing to talk to someone, he would, Kev. He’s not.”

“God, this is bad, though, Andrew. You know it is. His game is shot recently, and he’s got that look in his eyes again. You remember.”

Yeah, Andrew remembers, probably better than Kevin does. But that doesn’t mean he can do anything about it. Only Neil can take that next step.

“What about…what about you?” Kevin asks hesitantly. 

“What about me?”

“What if you were to talk to him?”

“Were you listening at all to what I just said, Day? If he wants to talk to someone, he will. And that includes me.”

Kevin takes a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh. He just shakes his head before crawling back into his bed.

Andrew’s hands ball into fists.

He wants to hold Neil. But he can’t. 

So he goes over to the sweat-soaked sheets while Neil is in the shower and changes them out instead. He throws the dirty ones in the hamper and lays fresh, cool ones on the bed so that Neil has somewhere comfortable to sleep when he returns. He turns off the light.

Then he goes back up to his bunk and waits. 

It takes longer than it should, but finally, Neil comes back from the bathroom. Andrew watches him in the mirror on the back of the door. His shoulders are hunched, arms wrapped protectively around his chest. His eyes are sunken-in bruises, patches of darkness in the room’s already dim light. 

He walks over to his bed, leans down, and freezes. There’s a moment’s pause where Neil realizes that the sheets are new. His hand strokes the top sheet once before he pulls it back. Then he climbs inside. 

In the reflection, Andrew can see Neil curl tightly into a ball, laying on his side and making himself as small as possible near the wall. Those shadowed eyes are still open, staring into nothing. The haunted look has returned to his face once more. 

So Andrew keeps his eyes on the door, watching his rabbit. He waits for the moment when sleep will claim him and vows to watch over him. If he can’t protect Neil from his dreams, he can at least protect him from the monsters that are real. 

But they both end up staying wide awake and listening to Kevin snore until the sun rises again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, to be SUPER CLEAR: I do not speak French. So the sentences you see between Kevin/Jean are purely from my friend, google translate. So my deepest apologies to anyone who actually speaks French and is like WTF?? 😭
> 
> In theory, the conversation in French should sound like this:
> 
> Jean: You need to look at this differently, friend. Instead of counting the days you have left, you should be grateful for the days you've already been given. It is more than what any of us should have had.
> 
> Kevin: Forgive me for not realizing the right to live must be earned. 
> 
> ~
> 
> So. Many. Misunderstandings. 🤦♀️😫😰
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and all of your lovely comments!! I love hearing from you guys!! ❤❤
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> _“Jesus fucking Christ, Andrew,”_ Aaron gripes at him under his breath in German as he passes the goal. _“Do something about your fucking boyfriend. He’s trying to kill us.”_
> 
> Andrew scowls at him.
> 
> But he’s forced to admit that while Neil’s temper may be amusing to him, he can tell this isn’t good for the team. It’s not only Nicky gasping, but Aaron and Boyd look exhausted as well. Even Kevin has stopped commenting, his head down and his eyes far away, as if this reminds him of something. Or maybe somewhere. 
> 
> Neil is running the team ragged. It needs to stop.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Class, laundry, then practice—all the earmarks for a pretty boring day in Andrew's world. So then…what the heck happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah. That’s right. It’s THAT scene y’all.
> 
> T/W: I actually think we're all good for this one? LMK if you catch something I didn't/want me to add something!

“Oh! Hey Andrew!” Liam greets him warmly as Andrew walks up to Fox Tower after his last class of the day. He’s grinning at Andrew for some reason, his perfectly straight teeth shining white as he holds the hand of the Vixens’ captain next to him. Whatever her name is. (He knows perfectly well what her name is, but he ignores it. An internal act of rebellion towards his warped brain). 

“Hi Andrew!” she chirps as well and waves at him.

Andrew doesn’t react to either greeting, but he stares back at the quarterback. 

Liam has ebony hair and perfectly smooth alabaster skin, his Irish roots as unmistakable as Kevin’s. He wears tight sweaters over button-up shirts that fail to hide washboard abs and chiseled arms and is just the right side of tall. The perfect height to grab onto his shoulders, angle your head, and make out with.

In other words, he’s hot. Devastatingly so. 

Unlike Kevin, though, he actually has a personality, and it’s a lethal combination for many of his peers. But these are not the reasons why he grabbed Andrew’s attention from the moment he moved into the dorm. That happened for two completely different reasons. 

The first is his striking violet eyes. They’re extremely rare, and Andrew’s curiosity and a quick internet search rewarded him with the fact that there are only around 600 people in the world with them. It means there are billions of people who will go an entire lifetime without ever meeting someone with the trait, and here Andrew’s living in the same building with one. It’s an extremely stupid but interesting fact for Andrew to lord silently over others, but he doesn’t dwell on it. As a foster kid, it was so rare that you had something others didn’t that he supposes he can’t help himself. It explains why his eyes snap to the feature every time. 

(Fine. He can also admit that perhaps- just _maybe_ \- he has a weakness for light-colored eyes).

The second is that despite all of his usual expectations for a football jock, Liam had broken every one of them the first day Andrew met him. 

After a mortifying incident involving stairs, crutches, a panic attack, and a stupid biochemistry joke, Andrew assumes Liam got the impression that they now know each other well enough to acknowledge each other’s presence. 

Andrew does not correct this. 

It’s entirely self-indulgent because Liam is boringly straight and doesn’t matter anyway because Andrew has Neil. But he’s easy on the eyes, and the opportunity to smugly rub it in Nicky’s face is bound to happen sometime. 

“Do you have any idea where the English Lit building is, dude?” Liam asks now, waving a poetry reading flyer at him sheepishly. “We’re thinking of going, but I legit only know where the stadium and the Science wing is.” He shakes his head. “I clearly need to get out more.”

Andrew looks at him for a second. Then he points towards the direction of the Lit building, not providing any further detail. 

“Oh great, thanks, man!” Liam is all gratitude anyway. He waves over his shoulder at Andrew as he takes off in that direction with his girlfriend. “Good luck with your game on Friday!”

Andrew snorts. It’s too bad Neil isn’t here- he probably could have told him exactly where it is, as well as six different ways of entering it. Only two of those being legal. 

He frowns suddenly, turning back and walking into the dorm. As he trudges up the stairs, he feels a weight slowly descending onto his shoulders. 

Today, for some reason, the orange color that PSU’s campus is practically dripping with blares at him, its copper tones painful and bright. It reminds him of shining, spinning compasses with arrows pointing in all directions. He thinks of a red sun rising, skies streaked with tints of fire and bronze, forecasting stormy seas. It’s the taste of blood on his tongue, the tarnish of bad luck pennies. It's the prelude to an infringing green that crawls up the metal as time sneaks by. Andrew feels like orange is a disaster waiting to happen.

Which really isn’t surprising because things have been…off with Neil. 

It’s hard to pinpoint. Some days they sail along, the waters easy and smooth, all fair skies and light. Then others spring up with storms, the waters growing rough and choppy, dark clouds bearing down on them. He knows such ups and downs are to be expected. That what they have will never be perfect, never can be because of what has happened to them. But lately, it feels like he’s missing something. Like he’s too busy trying to untangle knotted ropes on the deck when the real danger is that the boat has sprung a leak below. 

Andrew has spent the last week or so looking for said hole, but it’s elusive. Neil is elusive. He has these quicksilver moments where something flashes across his face that causes Andrew’s heart to stop. Then they slip away again, diving back down into waters dark and deep. Back down where Andrew can’t see them. 

A tiny digital screen with the last number of a countdown flashes mockingly in his mind. 

It’s in these times that he most keenly feels Renee’s absence. She was an observer, detailed and perceptive. She understood Andrew’s questions, provided him thoughts without feedback or judgment. He could confide in her without fear of retribution. Now that she’s gone, his options are limited. 

Though Nicky knows something about what’s worrying Neil, he’s too loud and opinionated. He won’t listen to Andrew and certainly won’t keep it a secret. And he’s not sure using Nicky as a filter will paint the picture appropriately anyway.

Aaron is rarely an option on a good day. When it comes to Neil? He could literally give two shits. 

Which really just leaves Kevin. And he can tell Kevin wants to say something to him. Whereas Neil pushes things down, deeper and deeper into himself, Kevin’s secrets rise to the top like a bottle filling with water. Especially if it’s something he believes shouldn’t stay silent. He can only last so long. Andrew just has to decide if it’s worth asking now or if he can wait for the arrogant striker to come to him. 

In fact, he just bets that-

He hears a door slam and has only seconds to duck a laundry basket aimed at his head, attached to a fiery ginger surging past him. 

“What the fuck?” he snaps. Neil pivots, jerking his head back as if he only just now registered Andrew is in front of him. “What is your problem, Josten?”

“Nothing,” Neil snarls in return. His voice is strained, close to breaking. 

Tension zips up Andrew’s spine like a tuning fork. He’s suddenly hyperaware of Neil, his senses tingling as he focuses on him. 

“Nothing is wrong at all,” Neil continues, his eyes flitting back and forth between Andrew and someone behind him. He thinks he can hear Nicky sniffling in the background. “I don’t care if you help old ladies cross the street, hold doors open, or give out directions like a good fucking Samaritan, do whatever the fuck you want. It has nothing to do with me.”

Andrew blinks. 

“Okay,” he says now slowly, as if talking slower will somehow give him enough time to figure out what the hell is going on. It doesn’t. “Got it. If I have any inclination of becoming a fucking girl scout, I won’t run it by you.”

Neil turns away from him instantly, starting down the stairs with their dirty laundry in tow. His words echo as he throws them back over his shoulder. “Great, let’s never talk about this again.” 

“Neil, don’t-”

But Nicky barely gets the words out before Andrew has him shoved up against the wall, a knife pressing into the softness of his stomach. “What the fuck happened, Nicky?”

Nicky pales, but even the explicit threat of death at Andrew’s hands doesn’t stop him from blubbering. Two thick streams of tears race down his cheeks as he shakes his head. “So sorry- Neil just- and I didn’t- I begged- none of my business- why would I even-” The words pour nonsensically from him, irrational and of no use to Andrew at all. It gets even worse as his breath starts to hitch, his lungs clearly struggling to get enough oxygen. “I’m not- it’s not-you’re not-”

“Start making sense, Nicky, or I’ll cut your tongue out because it annoys me,” Andrew threatens breezily. He barely has to put any effort into his warnings with Nicky usually, but this time around, Nicky stubbornly slams his lips together and shakes his head. “I have to talk to Neil first.”

“And why should I let you?” Andrew asks. He sees blue eyes stunned and hurt, glaring back at him in his mind’s eye. He presses the knife tighter against Nicky’s skin. 

But Nicky doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Andrew before blurting out suddenly, “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

This irritates Andrew on many levels. First, he doesn’t know what the fuck Nicky is talking about, even though he just explicitly asked. Second, he doesn’t like his cousin having to ask for forgiveness. He’s done it too many times in his life for reasons he should never have had to. And third, he really doesn’t like the thought of someone needing to ask forgiveness from his loudmouthed striker, mainly because he can recall with perfect clarity why Nicky had to apologize the last time. 

“Did you touch him?” Andrew asks lowly now because he has to make sure. 

“NO!” Nicky shouts, his hands flying up to his shoulders as if to prove to Andrew they’re clean. He chews his lip for a moment, peering off to the side before meeting Andrew’s gaze again, the look in them miserable. “But I really think you need to talk to him, Andrew.” 

Fine. This conversation was going nowhere anyway.

Andrew doesn’t acknowledge Nicky’s statement, but he releases him without a second thought. 

He hesitates a moment at the stair landing before striding towards the elevator. He’s already taken the stairs once today, damn it. 

When the elevator doors open to the basement, it’s to Neil’s wide eyes as he juggles the laundry basket on his hip and the basement key fob with his other hand. He must have forgotten his in his room again and went to the front desk instead of coming back upstairs after his dramatic exit. 

Andrew fights against a snicker that rises in his throat involuntarily. 

Though he makes no sound, it’s like Neil hears it anyway. Fury rises in those pale irises before he whips open the laundry room door and disappears inside. 

Rolling his eyes, Andrew takes his keys out of his pocket, unlocks the laundry room door with his own key fob, and follows him. 

Neil has already chosen a washing machine across the room. He doesn’t look at Andrew, but he knows he can hear him because he starts tossing items into the washer with more violent movements. 

Andrew walks towards him slowly. “Is there a reason Nicky’s currently having a meltdown on our floor?”

He leaves the question open and knows that Neil will understand what he’s asking. There’s a significantly higher chance that Neil, with his razor-sharp tongue, has said something that’s left his oversensitive cousin in tears. 

Most of the time, Nicky deserves it. Sometimes Neil regrets what he says. Never has Nicky managed to say something that upset Neil. Before now, Andrew’s not even sure the cousin had it in him. 

Ah, but lying fits his rabbit like a glove. He shrugs, an almost carefree act, like Andrew will maybe buy that. 

He doesn’t. 

But he scoots up onto the washing machine next to Neil’s anyway, letting his feet dangle and hit the side of the machine carelessly. The noise is obnoxious, but Neil barely twitches. And he still doesn’t look Andrew in the eye. 

With his own narrowing, Andrew reaches into the washing machine and starts grabbing items, throwing them back into the basket when Neil isn’t looking. He decides to play along for now. “No ideas, hm? Must be some other Neil that he’s blubbering on about then.” 

“Must be.”

“Because we know so many of those.”

“It’s a common enough name. Law of averages says it’s probable he’s met more than one Neil on campus.”

 _Right_ , Andrew snorts internally. He rolls his eyes and is aggravated that Neil doesn’t notice. “Ah, but this is apparently a Neil we both know. Who plays on our team?”

“Maybe they do. How would you know? You barely pay attention in practice.” This should feel like a typical jibe from Neil’s smart mouth, but instead, there is something sharp and caustic about it that embeds itself into Andrew’s brain. 

_Something’s wrong, something’s wrong._

“Because it’s boring,” he replies honestly. “But this conversation holds my interest. This Neil he apparently wants to apologize to for something that was ‘none of his business’? To ‘beg for forgiveness’ from?” 

He tosses a pair of boxers back at Neil’s basket, and Neil jolts. Realizing what Andrew is doing, he turns and pins Andrew with a merciless glare, blue eyes laser-focused on him and hands fisting against his sides. 

“Finally,” Andrew says in a monotone, although he means it. “Now, what happened?”

“Ask Nicky,” Neil sneers, his mouth curling. 

“Already did. Refuses to talk about it. Says he has to talk to you first. I’m figuring you’ll be less dramatic and tell me without releasing a gallon of snot.” He pauses purposefully. “Or should I grab a tissue?”

Anger is a beautiful emotion on Neil. It straightens his shoulders, brings color to his cheeks, makes him hold his head high. If looks could kill, Andrew would have died a thousand times over from the hostile glare Neil is giving him. Instead, it only makes his jeans tighter, blood pooling below his belt in a distracting way. 

Neil Josten is stunning when he’s angry. 

His copper curls bounce and sway in the low basement light as words are torn from his mouth like glass shards. “The fuck if I know! Funny enough, I don’t always listen to the shit that spews from your cousin’s mouth. Why the fuck do you care anyway?”

Andrew’s been expecting this.

He knows that Neil is like an injured feral cat when it comes to his emotions. He runs from them, neatly avoids them, sliding around them until you chase him into a corner. Only once his back is against the wall will he open up. But purely to scratch, scream, and bite. He doesn’t hold back. So you should only approach him if you’re willing to have blood spilled in return. 

Andrew knows all of this. But it still irks him. “What crawled up your ass?”

“This is the part where you make some comment about an Exy racquet, right? Original. Like I haven’t heard you use it a hundred times on Kevin.” 

“Then stop acting like the arrogant prick he is and feel free to pull it out.”

“Feel free to stop digging for it,” Neil retorts. “Or can’t you keep your hands off my ass long enough?” 

Okay. Maybe Andrew hasn’t been expecting this. Now he’s pissed. 

Annoyance and temper flush through his system in a hot rush. “ _Fuck_ you,” he says emphatically, specifically enunciating the hard consonants.

“Fuck you!” returns Neil, his own utterance much sloppier and more passionate. 

Neil slams the lid of the washer closed, takes a step away, then comes back because he probably realizes that he actually has to put money in the thing to make it go. Annoyance radiates through his every movement. He hurriedly digs his hand into his pocket before ripping it out. A shower of coins erupts from the cloth prison and spills out over the floor like a metal waterfall or a small hailstorm. 

Both Andrew and Neil freeze as they watch the coins spin and settle. 

It’s petty, but Andrew smirks. 

Neil catches his eye briefly before he swears under his breath, a blush crawling up his face and neck. He stumbles down on the ground, grabbing at quarters one, two, and three times before his clumsy fingers finally manage to snag an edge. 

Andrew watches him do it and says nothing. 

There’s something suddenly vulnerable about this atmosphere. He doesn’t like it. His hands are quivering, and his stomach feels like it’s doing loops. There’s a bad taste in his mouth. It’s nothing like he’s ever felt before in fights with strangers, friends, or even his family. During those, he feels smug, vicious, and alive. 

With Neil, he’s frustrated, defensive, and off-balance. 

He realizes suddenly that he doesn’t want to do this with Neil. He doesn’t want to fight with him. But he can’t fix what’s wrong unless Neil gives him something to work with.

After Neil finally manages to wrangle all the coins either into his pockets or the machine, he grabs the basket and starts marching towards the door without a backwards glance at Andrew. And Andrew knows that he can’t just leave it like this. 

“Neil,” he calls out once. 

Neil ignores him, throwing open the basement door and marching over to the stairs. Andrew follows him to the doorway. 

“Neil,” he says again, more urgently this time. 

Neil seems to waver before deciding to use the elevator. But Neil is inherently impatient, and when the elevator door doesn’t open after three seconds of him pushing it, Andrew can see him decide to take the stairs instead. 

Andrew draws closer. “Neil, look at me. _Look at me_.”

“ _What_?”

Neil turns right into Andrew’s space, right into the trap he’s set for him. He can visibly see the moment he realizes it, their proximity highlighting Neil’s distress. His chest heaves as if he’s gulping for air but fails because his mouth is pressed into a firm line, presumably to stop more words from spilling out. His legs are jittery, and his fingers twitch as if he’s ready to throw the basket aside and take off running.

He’s dangerously close to a full-on panic attack, Andrew realizes. 

So he purposefully slows down his movements, wiping his face of any emotions. A blank slate for all of Neil’s volatile ones to bounce off of. He steps closer, and Neil’s eyes widen. He leans into Neil’s throat, smells the essence of him, and has to stop himself from closing his eyes as he whispers, “Stop running, rabbit.”

Neil goes rigid. “I haven’t moved,” he bites out, his jaw so tight it looks like it could snap. 

Ah, Neil. Always so literal. 

Deliberately, Andrew pokes his finger into the skin between Neil’s eyebrows. “In here,” he says, and his voice is low with just an edge of hunger. Neil recognizes it, reacting immediately, his pupils blown wide. 

It pleases Andrew immensely. 

“Then tell me to stay,” Neil murmurs back, his eyes studying Andrew’s mouth. Andrew licks his lips, and Neil tracks the movement before he’s chewing on his own lip nervously. 

Andrew lifts a brow. “Greedy. I already said it once.” 

“Say it again,” Neil begs, and Andrew’s own gaze dips down to Neil’s mouth, wanting his lips to follow. 

But then his mind registers the words. A sudden chill goes up Andrew’s back. This feels different. 

There’s desperation and uncertainty there, and it strikes a dissonant chord in Andrew. There’s something more to what Neil is asking. It’s something Andrew’s not sure he can give. 

When the elevator door dings behind him, signifying its presence, Andrew steps back. He recoils from whatever is happening between them, falling back on the comfort of their usual game to create some distance. He says no. 

And he thinks this is all right. This is their game- Neil knows that. It’s how they poke and prod at each other, give and take, how they feel. Neil understands. 

He’s just pissed right now. Needs some time and space to think things through. Let his temper fizzle out. So Andrew will give it to him.

“Did you fix things?” Nicky asks as soon as he’s back in the room. “Is he okay?”

Andrew stares at the copper mug in Nicky’s hand. Nicky frowns, confused, looking down at it before he meets Andrew’s gaze again. “ _Sweet Surrender_ cocktail. Want one?”

Andrew shakes his head, the weird feeling of uncertainty settling over his shoulders once more. “He’s fine,” he answers without much thought and ignores the stricken look Nicky gives him. He sits down on the couch and grabs a game controller. 

_Everything’s fine_ , he insists to himself as he switches his attention to the screen. 

\---

Boyd has a nice ass. And he knows it.

Andrew knows he knows. Because when he’d caught Andrew looking once, he’d just laughed and winked. 

Andrew couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling in return.

It’s not like Andrew has a wandering eye. He’s more than good with what he and Neil have. He just notices things. Like Kevin’s forearms and large hands. Boyd’s ass and his shoulders. The blue-green color of Brian’s eyes and his wicked smile. If pressed, Andrew can find something attractive in every guy on their team. (Except for Jack. Fuck Jack). 

But it doesn’t mean he wants to do something with them. 

And it certainly doesn’t mean he feels sorry for them either, not even on a day like today when Neil is running the team into the ground. Wymack had been forced to skip practice today for some reason or another, and Andrew knows the rest of the team thought this meant they might get a break. 

Neil kills this fantasy pretty quickly.

He has the team running and sprinting, tackling harder and harder drills, shouting at them from the sidelines. There’s a rigidness to his stance and coldness in his eyes that most of the team hasn’t seen before. Andrew recognizes it, but he doesn’t like it. He knows who that posture reminds him of. 

It doesn’t help that Neil has blood spilled all down the front of his shirt. And a swollen nose. And two bruises appearing on either side of it.

But what’s most annoying to Andrew is that no one, including Neil, is telling him what the fuck happened. 

So Andrew watches them with little pity as the sun begins to set over the stadium wall. It’s a dull, coppery orange, just like the orange in the stadium seats, in their uniforms, and in Neil’s hair. Warning bells blare all around Andrew as it flickers before his eyes.

Orange means caution. It means go slow. It’s a warning of something Andrew knows is coming. 

“Neil, come on!” Nicky gasps, distracting Andrew for a moment. His cousin is curling over himself as he tries to draw in air. “We need a moment to breathe!”

Neil turns cold, icy eyes on the backliner. “If you have breath to talk, then you have breath to run. Move it, Hemmick. Now.”

Nicky swallows and starts moving again. 

They had lost their second game of the season this week, and Neil must have had enough. A fire has been lit underneath him that seems to be coming from the depths of hell. He’s almost worse than Kevin, the way he’s driving the team currently. 

It does some interesting things to Andrew, seeing Neil so hard and curt to the others. Seeing the lines of his face drawn into a scowl because he’s so pissed. Watching his head held high and his jawline tight as he barks out another command to one of the freshmen. It’s pulling at something low in Andrew’s gut, making interest stir as he watches safely from his goal. 

“ _Jesus fucking Christ, Andrew_ ,” Aaron gripes at him under his breath in German as he passes the goal. “ _Do something about your fucking boyfriend. He’s trying to kill us_.”

Andrew scowls at him.

But he’s forced to admit that while Neil’s temper may be amusing to him, he can tell this isn’t good for the team. It’s not only Nicky gasping, but Aaron and Boyd look exhausted as well. Even Kevin has stopped commenting, his head down and his eyes far away, as if this reminds him of something. Or maybe somewhere. 

Neil is running the team ragged. It needs to stop.

“Wait, seriously, Neil, can’t we just-”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Neil snaps, cutting Nicky’s sentence off. “Or are you purposefully being obtuse?”

“No, that’s not- I didn’t mean-”

“Or maybe you forgot what being on a collegiate Exy team was like? What it actually means to work for something? Why don’t we do another couple laps then, to jog your memory?”

Nicky whimpers.

And Andrew’s had enough. “Stop,” he says simply.

Neil stops. His gaze slices through the air to meet Andrew’s when he turns. The team freezes, eyes glancing back and forth between the two figures. 

“What did you say?” Neil asks. 

“I said stop, Josten. We’re done.”

They’re already a half-hour over their practice time. Everyone knows it, but no one dares to question Neil in this mood. No one except Andrew, apparently. 

“We’re done when I say we’re done,” Neil snaps at him. 

“Then say we’re done because we are, whether you like it or not,” Andrew responds, his tone extremely bored. 

“We’re not leaving this field, _Minyard_. Not until someone on this team can prove to me they can actually hold a racquet with some semblance of skill!”

Andrew stares at him.

Neil’s serious about this. He’s somehow figured in his mind that if he can just keep them here longer, somehow he’ll start to see the team he knows they can be. It has Andrew shaking his head. 

Right now, Neil’s thought process is twisted, exhausted from stress and lack of sleep. He needs to rest. He needs to get away from the court, to not think about Ichirou and the Moriyamas and the way his life hangs in the balance every time he picks up a racquet. 

But he can’t seem to see that. Not tonight. 

_Warning. Caution._

Apparently, Andrew’s going to have to do this the hard way. 

“Like you can?” He calls out carefully, looking nowhere but into Neil’s eyes. He watches them flare with temper. “How about a wager then? If you can score on me, then the team stays and keeps practicing. If you can’t…”, he shrugs, “…then they can go.”

It’s a foolish bet to make. Neil rarely scores on Andrew, not when he’s trying anyway. But the challenge issued is too great for Neil to deny. He can see it in his junkie’s eyes, the way they light up as soon as he offers. 

“You’re on,” Neil says, and a cruel smile blooms on his face. Andrew wants to wipe it off immediately. 

He sees Matt's and Nicky’s eyes widen, exchanging a look between them. Kevin says nothing, but he’s staring at Andrew, his face expressing something that Andrew can’t focus on at the moment. 

He simply waits in the goal as Neil lines up, grabbing a bucket of Exy balls. The others scramble out of the way. “Ready?” he calls. 

“Just waiting on you, Captain,” Andrew calls back. He sees how the comment seems to annoy the younger man. 

_Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong._

Neil picks up the first ball and tosses it in the air once as if testing its weight and then immediately fires at the goal. 

Andrew barely moves to block it, his racquet stretching out an inch so that the ball bounces off the end of it. 

Neil narrows his eyes. Andrew tilts his head.

Then the competition is on.

Neil rapid fires on the goal, grabbing balls left and right and aiming at opposite corners. Andrew catches or deflects each one, sometimes whipping them back at Neil’s head to throw him off guard. The striker starts breathing harder, sweat running down his face as he gets near the end of the first bucket. 

Andrew simply stands there, unaffected. 

Jess gets Neil another bucket of balls, and he goes again, this time trying more outlandish maneuvers like sliding in on his knees before flicking the ball towards the goal at the last second. A few get closer this time, but Andrew still handles them confidently, tossing the balls towards the other end of the field now for spite. 

They go through the second bucket. Then a third. Then a fourth. 

It’s on the fifth bucket that Neil finally wears down. He’s gasping, his obnoxious speed finally waning. Andrew’s arms are starting to hurt, but he doesn’t show this. He just waits Neil out, watching the striker’s steps move slower and slower. 

Finally, about halfway through the bucket, Neil falls to his knees. He can barely breathe, he’s so tired, but he manages to eke out five curt words. “I yield. Practice is dismissed.” 

There’s a pregnant pause where the team sits there and stares at him. Then, cautiously, they get up and start retreating to the locker rooms. 

They’re whispering among themselves, shooting odd looks between Neil and Andrew. Andrew doesn’t really care about this, though. He’s just glad it’s over. Now he can finally focus on getting Neil to relax and get him away from this stupid court. 

But as he’s taking off his gloves, he hears one of their backliners, Dominick, whispering to Carlos as they go by him. 

“Well, I guess that settles that,” he says, his tone wry. “No way would someone embarrass their boyfriend like that in front of the entire team. Especially when their boyfriend is the captain.”

“Just shut the fuck up, Dom,” Carlos growls, kicking his foot and shooting a nervous glance over at Andrew.

Andrew freezes. What the fuck? That’s not- he hadn’t meant-

But now, as he takes in the glances the team is giving them, the snickers and pitiful looks that are aimed at Neil, he realizes that’s exactly what he’s done. 

Andrew doesn’t believe in regret. But he can recognize when a poor decision has been made. And he knows he made one now. 

Fuck. _Fuck_. Now what?

He watches the court clear out until only Boyd, Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron are still there with Andrew, watching Neil gasping on the ground. He’s thrown his helmet off to the side at this point, and his bandana has fallen. His racquet sits untouched some distance away. He’s sprawled out on his back, staring at the sky with tired, angry eyes.

_Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong._

For a moment, Andrew is thrown back to a night practice weeks ago where Neil had been in this exact same position, had even said those exact same words. _I yield_. But he had been grinning then. 

He isn’t grinning now. 

Neil sits back up and rests his arms on his knees for a moment as he gains his breath back. But he doesn’t meet anyone’s gaze. 

Andrew drops his own racquet and starts walking towards him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, isn’t sure what will happen when he reaches Neil. Doesn’t know what he could possibly say to make this better. 

So he doesn’t say anything. He simply reaches out and is a split second away from putting a hand on Neil’s shoulder when Neil throws himself backward. 

“No,” he snarls. 

Andrew freezes. 

Shakily, Neil manages to get to his feet. He snags his helmet and his racquet, and then he walks away from the group without a second glance. The slamming of the Court doors behind him echoes in the stadium. 

The rest of the group is stunned. 

Boyd’s gaze scans the others before his head and shoulders droop. He walks towards the doors slowly. Kevin looks like he wants to say something, but Aaron grabs him, literally clamping a hand over his mouth and shoving him in the other direction towards Boyd. Then it’s just Nicky and Andrew left. 

Andrew swallows a few times, his mind still reeling from that one simple word. 

Nicky walks up to him and reaches a hand out before thinking better of the gesture. He lowers it slowly and makes as if he’s going to pass by Andrew before he pauses and turns back. 

In a tiny voice, he says, “Thank you.” 

Andrew knows he means for helping him, or for the team in general. For stopping this ridiculous practice before it got any worse. But even then, the cousin hesitates. 

Because if they’re both honest, neither of them is sure whether Andrew has actually helped or not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Hey, Andrew. Your phone is ringing.  
> Andrew: Who is it?  
> Me: Uh, it looks like your friend, DENIAL, is calling. You gonna answer?  
> Andrew: Nah, they can leave a message.
> 
> Woohoo, halfway point y'all!! Hope you're enjoying things as much as me! Thanks so much for reading and your awesome comments- keeps me going on a dreary winter day like today! You guys are amazing!
> 
> I think this is the first chapter that we really get a good glimpse of the other side of Neil. His temper and his razor-sharp tongue, and the fact that he's human and can make mistakes just like any of the others. You have to remember the timing too because that last bit was JUST after the locker room scene w/ Dom and Carlos and the rest of the team. And Neil is PISSED. But he's putting his head down and ignoring the other facts that are affecting him that Andrew can see. But then Andrew is ALSO human and makes mistakes so....yeah. This is just the warm-up, I'm afraid. You guys know what's coming next chapter...
> 
> RANDOM FUN FACT: I actually had a whole scene that I cut out showing how Andrew/Liam met before I was like nah....not necessary. I'm wavering on whether I'll turn it into a sweet little one-shot prequel or something though. Hmm. Let me know if y'all would be interested. 
> 
> ADDITIONAL RANDOMNESS: wanna know how to make a Sweet Surrender cocktail like Nicky? (AHEM: only for you kiddos 21+ 😉)
> 
>  **Ingredients**  
>  1/2 oz. Peach Brandy  
> 1 oz. Orange Juice  
> Champagne
> 
>  **Steps to Make**  
>  1\. Rub the rim of a copper mug with an orange slice and dip it into sugar.   
> 2\. Pour peach brandy and orange juice.   
> 3\. Fill it with champagne.  
> 4\. Make a second one for Andrew so you can avoid being stabbed. 
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> “Who gives a shit what Josten’s problem is? He can quit being a bitch and get over it. It shouldn’t have to ruin our night,” Aaron says sourly. 
> 
> “Jesus, a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Nicky accuses him. “I mean, I get why he’s pissed at me. I just don’t understand why he won’t let me apologize.” 
> 
> “Yes, you do,” Kevin retorts. “It’s why I said we need to talk to Andrew.” 
> 
> “Seriously?” Aaron’s tone is indignant. “Just because the idiot’s jeal-”
> 
> “Shhh!” Nicky hisses. “Shut up! He’ll hear you!”
> 
> “Maybe he should,” Kevin seems determined. “Maybe we should just get it over with now.” 
> 
> But before any of them can approach Andrew, he hears the suite door open with a bang.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five guys walk into a bar. Two of them spill some secrets, two of them beat the crap out of one another, and one of them finally figures out what's wrong. Or at least, he thinks he does.
> 
> And who says guys can't have fun?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: references to self-harm, depression at the end of scene two.

Andrew is sitting on top of his bunk, leaning against the wall, when he hears Nicky. 

“Do you think Neil’s coming with us tonight?”

He pauses in turning the page of his textbook. 

“How the hell should I know?” comes Kevin’s fervent whisper. He’s talking low as if he doesn’t want Andrew to hear them, even though they’re sitting right outside his door. “Go ask him if you’re so worried.”

“Maybe I should stay back-” Nicky starts before Aaron cuts him off. 

“Why the hell should you stay back if Neil’s the one being a dick? Besides, he probably doesn’t even want to go. I sure as hell don’t want him there.” 

“Yeah, but-” Nicky tries again.

“You forget Andrew’s rule,” Kevin pipes in. “Either we all go, or none of us do.”

“But he seems so uncomfortable with me around!” Nicky bursts out, and he sounds close to tears. “He hasn’t smiled, or laughed, or said anything to me in the past week! I literally had to ask Matt to ask Neil to pass me a water bottle at practice yesterday!”

“Maybe that’s because you can get your own damn water bottle,” Aaron snaps.

“No, he’s right. Neil hasn’t said much to anyone,” Kevin admits. He pauses and then adds, “Something’s definitely off.”

Andrew closes his book now and puts it aside on the bed. _Off._ Right. Kevin is woefully understating things. They are way past _off_. 

Neil has been a powder keg over the past week. His moods swing up and down violently, bursting on them at the oddest moments. He keeps going on runs for hours at a time yet can’t seem to satisfy whatever itch is nagging at him. He also has straight-up ignored or rudely cut off Nicky at each turn, which would probably amuse Andrew more if he knew the exact reason for it. But Neil has been stubbornly silent on the issue, letting words slowly run dry between them.

It's really starting to piss Andrew off. 

“Who gives a shit what Josten’s problem is? He can quit being a bitch and get over it. It shouldn’t have to ruin our night,” Aaron says sourly. 

“Jesus, a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Nicky accuses him. “I mean, I get why he’s pissed at me. I just don’t understand why he won’t let me apologize.”

“Yes, you do,” Kevin retorts. “It’s why I said we need to talk to Andrew.”

“Seriously?” Aaron’s tone is indignant. “Just because the idiot’s jeal-”

“Shhh!” Nicky hisses. “Shut up! He’ll hear you!”

“Maybe he should,” Kevin seems determined. “Maybe we should just get it over with now.” 

But before any of them can approach Andrew, he hears the suite door open with a bang. 

The living room falls silent. 

A couple of seconds later, Neil bursts through the bedroom door. He barely looks at Andrew before he’s throwing his bag down on the floor, toeing off his shoes and flinging them aside. He stalks over to the dresser, whips out clothes, and exits the room just as quickly as he came. 

Andrew blinks. It’s like a whirlwind just attacked. 

Jumping down from the bed, he barely makes it outside the door before Neil stalks out of the bathroom, freshly changed. There’s a grim, determined look on his face as he glares at the rest of them. “Let’s go,” he says tightly, then crosses the room to open the suite door. Though he walks with the enthusiasm of someone going to the guillotine, the rest of them are suddenly scrambling to keep up with him. 

Andrew follows the group down the stairs and prepares for a fun night ahead. 

\---

By the time they make it to the club, he desperately needs a cigarette. 

They pass beneath a blinking yellow light as they turn onto the road near the club parking lot, and Andrew looks up to silently agree with it. Citrine, he thinks, or maybe chartreuse. A pale, sickly yellow with just a tinge of green underneath. It reminds him of illness, vomit, and disease. It’s musty stains and rotten eggs and leaves that are dying. It’s a color that screams something is wrong. 

Andrew looks at the passenger seat to see Neil covered in it. 

Neil has somehow gotten worse during the car ride. He’s a sinking vortex, curling in on himself and dragging anyone else down who gets too close. Nicky and Kevin keep exchanging weird looks in Andrew’s rearview mirror, with the odd glance thrown at Neil. But mostly, the car is silent, with Andrew finally turning up the music loud enough to prevent any more half-assed attempts at conversations. 

As they walk from the parking lot into the club, the light seems to die in Neil’s eyes. He’s falling, and Andrew is helpless to stop it. 

When he fails to improve after they get inside, Andrew performs a weak attempt to snap him out of it. He gives him his whiskey; insinuates he should relax. Instead, Neil tosses it back like water.

That’s when Andrew knows this night isn’t going to end well. 

This situation with Neil is a puzzle with pieces that are faded and torn. Andrew keeps spinning and flipping them, determined to understand the bigger picture, but he keeps falling short. He knows he’s missing some crucial ones- a corner piece perhaps, or an edge. It makes everything look the same, makes it hard for him to know where to start. It baffles him why Neil tipped it out onto the table and put it in front of him, to begin with. 

He comes back from the bar with new drinks and sees Kevin and Nicky waiting for him, determined looks on their faces. They’ve even moved to the other side of the table, presenting a united front to face him together. Aaron and Neil are nowhere to be found.

That’s concerning.

“Andrew. We need to talk.” 

Andrew takes a slow sip of his drink without breaking eye contact with Nicky. “About?” 

There’s a sudden noise under the table as Kevin flinches. “Ow, what the hell-”

“Tell him, Kevin,” Nicky jerks his head towards Andrew. “About what we need to speak to him about.”

“Me? I thought you were going to start this-”

He lets out another pained hiss after Nicky kicks him again. “Fine, Jesus, just knock that shit off.” He turns and looks at Andrew. “Right. So. Andrew.” 

Andrew lifts an eyebrow. 

Kevin swallows. “Ah, we wanted to talk to you about- about Neil.” 

Andrew waits.

Kevin steels his shoulders. “You have to speak with him, Andrew.”

He tilts his head. “I did.”

“You did?” Nicky asks, surprised. He stares back at the bar, clearly checking to see if Neil is there. 

“On the way inside,” Andrew clarifies. “Asked if he wanted anything to drink. He said ‘no.’”

“Jesus Christ, Andrew, you know what we mean!” Kevin’s temper wins out. “There’s something wrong, and everyone knows it!”

“Who’s everyone, and why should I care?” Andrew inquires. 

“The team. Wymack and Abby. Us!” Nicky jumps in now. “I mean, he still won’t even look at me-”

“Because of something neither you nor he has seen fit to tell me,” Andrew interrupts. 

“-and something is eating at him, and we just think that maybe you can find out what it is,” Nicky finishes, ignoring Andrew entirely. 

“Why?”

“Why what?” Nicky frowns. 

“Why should I?” Andrew repeats, taking another sip of whiskey.

Kevin and Nicky just stare at him, flabbergasted. 

“Andrew, you can’t possibly ignore this-”

“It has to bug you too! There’s no way you haven’t noticed-”

“If Neil wants to talk, then he’ll talk. Until then…” Andrew shrugs. 

“But he’s hurting, Andrew!” Nicky argues. 

“Has he said so?” 

Kevin snorts. “Right. Like Neil ‘I’m Fine’ Josten would ever admit he’s hurting unless under pain of death.” Then he pales a little, probably thinking of a city where Neil did just that. 

Nicky ignores Kevin. “You know he never tells us anything like that, Andrew. He only talks to you about this stuff,” he whines. “And besides, you don’t always need to hear the words to know someone is in pain.”

Andrew nearly scoffs before Nicky adds quietly, “I learned that from you.”

Andrew stares across the table at him for a moment. Nicky quickly uses the opportunity to take a sip of his drink, a specialty cocktail for the night that Roland called _The Green Fairy_. It’s a stunningly bright yellow and sickly green that has Andrew’s stomach churning. 

“Just leave him the fuck alone,” he finally grits out. “And don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

“No,” Kevin says stubbornly, crossing his arms. “I’m not letting this go. I’m telling you, there’s something wrong, and you need to do something about it.”

“I don’t _need_ to do anything,” Andrew snaps. “You go talk to him if you’re so worried.”

“Believe me, I already did, and it did not go well.”

Andrew narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Kevin freezes before grabbing a shot glass off the table and shooting it back. “Nothing,” he says, in the most unconvincing tone Andrew has ever heard. 

“Kevin.”

“Andrew.”

Andrew stares at him, then says, “You have exactly five seconds to spit out what you talked to Neil about, or else you’re playing stickball with a limp next week.” He leans forward over the table to emphasize, “And I’ll tell the press it’s because your master went a little too rough at the local BDSM club.”

Kevin pales, his eyes widening. They dart to the side for a second as if he’s weighing something. Then his shoulders cave, and Andrew knows he’s won.

“Fine!” he says heatedly. “The other day at the dorms, while you were gone, he asked me…” He blanches and has to start again. “He asked me if we…if we were…you know…”

“Spit it out, Kevin. Today,” Andrew snaps. 

“He asked if we were together before he got there!” Kevin blurts out. 

“What?” Nicky yelps, spilling his drink. “No. Way.” 

Andrew blinks. Then he blinks again. “Together?” he echoes.

“Uh-huh.”

“You and me?”

“Yep,” Kevin confirms, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. 

Nicky waits for a few seconds as silence descends between the two. “Well…?”

“Absolutely not,” Andrew says flatly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kevin asks incredulously. 

“No way in hell,” Andrew confirms. 

Nicky’s brow furrows. “So then where could he have possibly gotten that idea from- oh.” He stops. 

“Oh?” Andrew repeats. 

“Oh no,” Nicky corroborates, his face paling. “Now I get it.”

“Nicky,” Andrew says threateningly, his hand sliding towards his armband for emphasis.

“Remember that conversation Allison and I were worried about?” Nicky gives a small, pained smile. “Well, it was kinda during that where I might have insinuated that Kevin was your type.”

“WHAT?” Kevin shouts at him. 

Andrew’s eyes widened fractionally. “What?” he repeats stupidly, seeing as Kevin already said it, but it did seem to bear repeating. 

“It made sense at the time, all right? He was asking about that guy at the bar who helped you, and we started talking about who is your type, and I definitely tried to give a hint that Neil was (obviously), but you know…it’s Neil…so he didn’t get it, and then he was all like ‘well, is anyone we know Andrew’s type? Because I don’t pay attention to these things, haha’ and then I told him about the bet we had on the two of you during freshman year-”

“You did what?” Kevin screeches, but Andrew simply holds up a hand to shut him up. 

“-and Allison agreed, and basically, we ended up saying what a cute couple the two of you would make together, and oh my god, Andrew, just don’t stab me, okay?!”

Apparently, Nicky was too focused on Andrew to consider Kevin being a threat. He grunts, his breath coming out in a giant whoosh as Kevin’s elbow jams into his stomach. “So that’s why that asshole skipped his class to interrogate me! Because you put some stupid shit in his head about Andrew and me! For fuck’s sake, Nicky!”

Andrew remembers that day. He thinks back to Neil lying and saying how he was “sick” and his reluctance suddenly to kiss Andrew in front of Kevin. He recalls how silent Neil had been up on the rooftop the week before and how when he spoke with Nicky afterward, he had tried to say something was bothering Neil then.

The pieces are starting to fit together.

“Look, it’s not my fault! He’s the one who asked! And it’s not like all this mafia shit was out in the open back then. All we knew is that you and Andrew had some kind of weird deal that neither of you talked about, and you were hanging around together like 24/7, and then- agh, Kev- stop, you’re choking me- ack!”

Kevin was indeed choking Nicky, his arm around the other man’s throat, the cousin flailing as they wrestled. 

Andrew watches this for a couple of seconds until movement by the bathrooms catches his eye. A couple of bouncers are walking out of the men’s bathroom with Neil and Aaron in tow. Aaron looks disheveled and has a bloody fist, while Neil has a bruise forming above his eye and a split lip. 

_Shit._

Andrew snaps twice to break the two up at the table before he starts walking towards the door. He doesn’t wait to see if Nicky and Kevin will follow. He knows they will.

On his way out, the head of security catches up with him. “Caught ‘em tussling in the bathroom, Andrew. They were really whaling on each other. Think your brother’s the one who busted the mirror.”

Of course he was. Of course Neil and Aaron were fighting _each other_ in a shitty bathroom at a club. Because apparently, they have nothing better to do than beat the crap out of each other whenever they’re within a ten-foot, unsupervised radius of each other. 

Andrew should invest in leashes. 

“We’ll pay for it,” Andrew replies, but the guy shakes his head. Aaron’s lucky the bouncers love him.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. Just get ‘em both home and let ‘em cool off. I’d keep ‘em separated for the night if I were you, though.”

Andrew nods his head in thanks as they reach the door. He walks out and catches sight of his brother leaning against the wall, trying hard to look as if the pain in his hand isn’t bothering him. Neil stays a safe distance away from him, spitting blood into the gutter.

There’s no doubt that he’s pissed at them. But he’s also angry at himself because he should have known, should have suspected when the two most unlikely people were both missing from the table. He knows better than to let them out of his sight. Instead, he let Kevin and Nicky distract him. Because he can’t figure out what’s wrong with Neil. Because Neil won’t talk to him.

Christ, he’s a fucking moron. They all are.

Andrew ignores them and walks towards the car. He’s furious, nearly vibrating with anger. He’s so mad, he’s barely able to bark out directions at the others when they reach it. 

“Kevin, get up here,” he points at the passenger door. He eyes Aaron and Neil distastefully. “The two of you in the back.” He hears Aaron scoff but ignores it. Then he turns to his cousin. “And Nicky,” he waits until Nicky turns anxiously towards him so that he can drill his point home. “Don’t let any blood get on my car.” 

Nicky eyes Neil and Aaron apprehensively as if he’s going to have to break up a brawl at any minute. Or perhaps it’s the fear of anything touching Andrew’s car that makes him look as if he’s already planning his funeral. Either way, it’s with a slight whimper that he crawls in ahead of Aaron, taking the unenvied middle seat in the back, his hands gripping it tightly between his knees. 

The moment the last door is closed, Andrew floors it. Neil and Aaron may have sated their lust for blood tonight, but now Andrew has anger to spare and nowhere to put it. So he whips around corners, busts red lights and stop signs, and tries to find satisfaction in the way his blood pumps as the car skids on the pavement. 

He roars into their driveway and screeches to a halt, throwing everyone forward slightly in their seat. As he turns off the car, he relishes for a split second how the group waits silently for orders. 

“Out,” he says to the rest of them. Then he looks into his rearview mirror and pins Neil with a glare. “You, wait.” 

Neil meets his gaze for a moment before crossing his arms and leaning back. He pointedly stares out his window. 

There are no protests from the others as they scramble to get out of the car. They’re inside the house in moments. 

Andrew forces himself to take a deep breath. He tries to reign in his anger, but he’s exasperated with Neil. He really is. He wouldn’t be in this damn situation if the stupid idiot had just come and talked to him in the first place. 

Kevin’s and Nicky’s warnings were delivered too late. So now he has only himself to blame because he’s known this was coming. He’d seen the signs and chosen to ignore them. 

Well, no longer. He’s going to get to the bottom of this. Now.

He opens his door and steps out before whipping Neil’s open. Then he bends down into Neil’s space. 

Neil stares straight ahead of him. 

Andrew is not amused. “Talk.”

Neil shrugs. “I’m fine.”

 _Of course_. “Didn’t ask. I said talk.”

“About what?”

Andrew feels a vein throb in his temple. “About whatever the hell is wrong with you.”

Neil lets out an ugly, broken laugh. “How long have you got?”

Oh, so this was how he was going to play it? How boring.

“I’ve no interest in your self-pity.” Andrew stands up and walks away. 

“Oh? Then what are you interested in?” Neil follows him, slamming the car door shut. 

“Cigarettes. Mocking Kevin,” Andrew shrugs. “The eventual fall of the human race.”

“I meant what are you interested in about me.”

Andrew turns back towards Neil. Neil is standing a good distance away from him, his shoulders rigid, arms at his sides, his hands balled into fists. He’s looking at Andrew now, but he’s slightly hunched as if he’s just waiting for a blow. 

Andrew catalogs this in the back of his mind before he pulls a cigarette out. He buys himself some time to think while he lights it, unsure exactly of what Neil’s endgame is. So he tries for normalcy. “Nothing about you remotely interests me. You’re a junkie, a liar, and a rabbit.”

“Why do you put up with me then?”

_Something’s wrong, something’s wrong._

“Because you’re marginally less boring than the others.”

Neil nods, his eyes cast to the ground as he thinks. Then he firms his jaw and looks Andrew square in the eye. “So, is there anyone else who interests you instead?”

The question stuns Andrew. Fog fills his mind until small tidbits begin to break through. Snippets of conversation from Kevin and Nicky tonight, along with all the little moments he’s been experiencing with Neil over the past few weeks, roll into one until he’s all the way back at the bar at Eden’s, staring at some guy with a five o’clock shadow and a lip piercing. 

Is Neil seriously asking this question? Is this really what this is all about?

“What, are you threatened by those guys?” he accuses Neil now, caustic and dismissive because he’s genuinely confused that this is even a question. “Is this your petty way of wanting to keep me? Jealousy doesn’t suit you.” 

He exhales, blowing smoke towards Neil, what he knows to be a normally comforting smell. But Neil grows paler if anything, his eyes growing distant.

Andrew makes his next point stunningly clear. “You will not make me apologize for who I am. You knew this from the beginning.” 

Andrew will not be shamed for his sexuality. He’s worked far too hard for too long to get here. To be okay with who he is. 

“I would never ask you to,” is Neil’s immediate reply, as if it’s something he’s never even considered.

Liar.

“Prove it. Stop acting like a hypocrite.”

Andrew has never questioned Neil’s sexuality. He’s never teased him for it or made him feel bad for feeling the way he does. He’ll be damned if Neil makes him feel bad about his.

But Neil looks like he’s confused and hurt by this statement. Like he’s a puppy that’s been struck for peeing in the house when he’s never been potty trained. Like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Andrew frowns and tries a different tactic. “No one asked for a martyr. Do not twist the truth to satisfy your issues.” 

“You don’t have to deal with them,” Neil says hollowly. 

_Don’t have to deal with them…is Neil trying to push him away? But why?_

“Is this why Nicky and Kevin have come crying to me?” Andrew asks him. “Because you’ve some misguided notion of what’s best for me?”

Neil just shakes his head. “More like a misplaced sense of guilt.”

_Guilt?_

“Yours or mine?”

“Yours.”

 _What the hell does he have to feel guilty for?_ “Explain.”

Neil’s fingers pick at the edge of his shirt, his eyes back on the ground as he answers. “You don’t owe me anything, Andrew. Back then…none of it was your fault-”

Instantly, Andrew knows he’s talking about Baltimore, and ire rushes hotly through his veins. “I know that,” he retorts. 

“So if-if you feel sorry for me, then don’t-”

“I feel nothing,” Andrew responds, cutting Neil off, but the reply is automatic. He doesn’t know what Neil is talking about. He doesn’t want Andrew to feel sorry? For what? What is he talking about? He’s losing the upper hand. 

“We’re…not the same,” Neil continues, hands wringing together, shirt sleeves twisting. “You have a choice. I’m not…this doesn’t have to be it for you.”

Water is rising. It’s getting hard to breathe. “There is no ‘this.’”

“Right,” Neil nods. “Exactly. I get it now.”

“Do you?” Andrew throws his cigarette aside. _Because I don’t._

Neil gives a self-deprecating smile. “Can’t stop what never started, right?”

Andrew drops all pretenses now. “What are you saying?”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you.” 

Panic claws at his throat. He suddenly feels like he knows where this is going. “What. About. Me.”

“You said it was okay, but it’s not. It can’t be.”

And just like that, Andrew's standing outside of a library two years ago with Neil's voice echoing in his ears. 

> _"How is this okay?"_
> 
> _"It isn't a this."_
> 
> _"That's not what I'm asking. You know it isn't."_
> 
> _Andrew turns away from him._
> 
> _"Andrew, wait-"_
> 
> _"No."_
> 
> _Immediately, Neil stops. His eyes are wide, his hand still outstretched towards Andrew._
> 
> _But he doesn't touch him._
> 
> _Andrew looks back at him and for a moment he's filled with an exhaustion so all-consuming he can feel it in his bones. It makes him slip, and he doesn't fight it, letting Neil see the darkness that threatens to drag him down so dark and deep that sometimes he's not sure if he'll ever resurface._
> 
> _Neil sucks in a small breath._
> 
> _Then Andrew shoves his mask back into place._
> 
> _He looks down at Neil's hand. He grabs his wrist and pushes it back to Neil's side, away from him. He digs his fingers in for just a moment, just long enough to feel Neil's pulse beating wildly against his skin before he releases him._
> 
> _Then he tells him, "_ _That's why."_

Andrew glares now at Neil.

 _How fucking dare he_. 

“You have no clue what you’re talking about,” he hisses at him.

“I didn’t ask-”

“Fuck off and listen to what I’m saying to you,” He snaps, striding forward and grabbing hold of Neil’s chin, forcing those rabbity eyes to look into his. “You don’t get to decide for me.”

Neil agrees, his head nodding as he does so, and he looks tired. So tired. “I don’t. And I won’t.” 

This is wrong. All of this wrong. But he doesn’t know how to stop it. As a last resort, he chokes out the words Neil wanted from him before. “I told you to stay.”

“Yes,” Neil says softly. His voice barely makes it above a whisper. “But I never asked you the same.”

 _I never asked you to stay_. 

Pain radiates outwards from Andrew’s chest. It’s an all-consuming ripple of heat that skitters across his skin before collapsing inward, like an imploding star. He suddenly feels empty, disconnected as he rips his hand away from Neil’s face and takes a few steps back. 

“Andrew?” He hears Neil whisper. “Yes or no?”

 _No_ , Andrew thinks violently, rages it inside of his head. He feels twisted and bent and so very close to broken. How could Neil even think of using that at a time like this? Is it some kind of sick joke to him? 

_No_ , he thinks again, but he doesn’t say it. He wants to scream at Neil, wants to punch him until his teeth are bloody and bruises start to form on Andrew’s knuckles. He wants to smother his mouth, stop him from talking, beg him to go back to what they were before they got in the car tonight. 

But he does none of those things. He can’t. He turns and leaves Neil. Leaves him standing outside, a dark silhouette in the pale-yellow floodlight by the garage door. 

He goes straight up the stairs and into his room, locking the door behind him. He’s drowning in darkness, succumbing to the black swell of oily water that covers him. There’s an old, overwhelming itch to dig into skin, to carve deep until he’s able to release some of the shadows within. He strips off both armbands with shaking hands and stuffs them deep between the mattress and the box spring. Then he runs over to the bathroom and empties his stomach. 

When he finally stops dry heaving, he pulls himself up, drinks water straight from the tap, and sinks back down on the floor of the bathroom. 

His cell phone is in his hand, and he takes one shuddering breath before he can finally answer the voice on the other end of the line. 

“Bee.”

\---

Neil doesn’t attempt to approach Andrew again that night. Not that Andrew expected him to.

But the thing is, Andrew’s not even sure if he slept because when he walks downstairs, Neil’s just sitting on the front steps, his shoes on and his hands clasped loosely between his legs. As if he’s simply been waiting for them to wake up so he can leave. 

When Aaron snaps at him to move out of his way, he doesn’t rise to the bait. He merely stands up and steps aside to let him through. It stuns Aaron for a moment. This is his and Neil’s routine after all-they explode at each other, feel better after some time apart, then start sniping again the next day. It’s a ritual that even Nicky and Kevin are familiar with. 

But Neil’s face is blank and expressionless, his eyes a million miles away. He reminds Andrew of a puppet whose strings have been cut. 

Aaron stares back at Andrew, a look of confusion screwing up his face. Andrew stares blankly back.

When they’re ready to go, Neil crawls into the backseat, puts on his seatbelt, and looks out the window for the rest of the drive. 

_Dramatic_ , Andrew inwardly huffs. He does not like this meek version of Neil. But he’s still too raw from their discussion last night to address it at present. Especially now that they have an audience. 

So he determines to wait until they’re back at the dorm. He can drag Neil up to the roof and continue their conversation there. Now that he’s had a night to think about things and gain some distance, he thinks he’s ready to do battle once more. 

But when they get back to Fox Tower, Neil gets out of the car and is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andddddd we have Angst!! Took the long route but we got there! *Literally flings Andrew into the deep end of it*
> 
> I know there was a tad bit of confusion when y'all read from Neil's perspective the first go-around (*cough cough purposefully so cough cough*) so hopefully things are a bit more clear now that we have Andrew's perspective. 😉
> 
> Thank you for all of your lovely comments! I'm so sorry I haven't got through them all yet! (It's been a crazy week) If you haven't heard from me yet, you should see something soon! ❤
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Here's next time: 
> 
> They’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, putting as much distance between them as possible in the tiny room. Andrew has slumped into his usual corner, sinking so deeply into the cushions that he may be in danger of the couch swallowing him.
> 
> Aaron, on the other hand, has chosen to perch on the very edge of his seat. It’s an extremely Neil-like position, Andrew thinks because he looks like he could take off any second. Like he already has one foot out the door. With that kind of posture, you would never think that he comes willingly to these sessions. 
> 
> Oh, wait. That’s right. He doesn’t. 
> 
> “So,” she starts off cheerfully. “It seems like there may be something troubling both of you.” 
> 
> It takes precisely five seconds for his brother to cave. Bee must be so proud.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Andrew & Aaron show! Watch them lovingly communicate in a heartfelt therapy session, then bond at the Foxhole Court parking lot. Everything's just swell when you're a twin.
> 
> Aka: in typical sibling fashion (or maybe not so typical?), watch these two brothers destroy one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: Mild references to abuse and homophobia. 
> 
> oooh dang, folks. Bee’s here. Shit’s about to get real.

_Tap. Tap. Tap_. 

Bee’s pen taps against the front of her notebook in a steady rhythm. It’s a deep shade of red. Garnet, Andrew thinks, and that’s apropos because red is all he can see lately. 

Red is angry, loud, vibrant. It screams to be seen, like blood on locker room walls on a fateful birthday. It’s rose petals, crimson lips, and sharpened nails, vulgar with passion and lust. It’s chili peppers, cherries, and pomegranate seeds; hot, sweet, and sinful. It’s splattered sheets and thin cuts on white skin and blood-coated racquets; things that scream _stop_ , over and over. 

Andrew is covered in red: his past, present, and future. He revels in it, can’t seem to escape it. Isn’t sure he knows how. 

Bee’s legs are crossed, and she’s got that large, oversized cardigan on that Andrew likes, her hair thrown up in a messy bun. She turns her head towards Aaron and smiles before she aims that same smile at Andrew. 

Neither of them responds to it. 

They’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, putting as much distance between them as possible in the tiny room. Andrew has slumped into his usual corner, sinking so deeply into the cushions that he may be in danger of the couch swallowing him. 

Aaron, on the other hand, has chosen to perch on the very edge of his seat. It’s an extremely Neil-like position, Andrew thinks, because he looks like he could take off any second. Like he already has one foot out the door. With that kind of posture, you would never think that he comes willingly to these sessions. 

Oh, wait. That’s right. He doesn’t. 

“So,” she starts off cheerfully. “It seems like there may be something troubling both of you.”

It takes precisely five seconds for his brother to cave. Bee must be so proud. 

“You need to stop treating her like crap, Andrew.”

Andrew shrugs. “I treat everyone in my life with equally deserving derisiveness and scorn. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about!” Aaron snaps. “At least she’s trying. What are you doing?”

“Aaron?” Bee interrupts. “Let’s make sure we’re clear. Who is ‘she’ in this instance?”

“Katelyn!” Aaron shouts. “Like usual, Andrew is being a dick to her.”

“Like you are to Neil,” Andrew nods. “Must be a twin thing. Or was breaking his face supposed to be a sign of affection?”

“I broke his face because he asked for it. Technically, I was helping.”

Andrew narrows his eyes. “Is that what Tilda said?”

Air whistles through Aaron’s teeth as he forces himself to take a calming breath, refusing to let Andrew rile him. “He didn’t say it exactly, Andrew, but he was pushing for it. Everyone could see he was itching for a fight that night. Don’t tell me you didn’t,” he scoffs. “Besides, it’s not my fault that he’s been moping about because he’s jealous.”

Andrew seethes. “Jealousy is for people who are weak. Neil is not weak.”

“Bullshit. Jealousy is for people who are insecure. Neil feels like you could drop him tomorrow and not care, and in some ways, I don’t blame him! All of your ‘we’re not a thing’ crap, what is he supposed to think?”

Now Andrew is the one trying his best to breathe evenly and not punch the presumptions right off his twin’s face.

“Wait just a second, Aaron, let’s back up a bit,” Bee intervenes. “Why do you believe Neil is jealous?”

Aaron glares at Andrew before he answers. “Because he flipped after some guy helped Andrew at the bar like a month ago. He’s been acting weird since.”

“Weird?” Bee echoes. “How so?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron shrugs jerkily. “Distant. Moody. Just…weird. Then there was that thing at the dorm the other day. With Nicky.”

Andrew sits up at this statement. “What thing with Nicky?”

Aaron scowls and scratches at his arm. “Hasn’t Neil told you? Or Nicky?” When Andrew continues to stare at him silently, Aaron shakes his head. “Jesus, don’t drag me into this. I could literally give a fuck.”

“Too late,” Andrew grits out ruthlessly. “Talk. Now.”

“Aaron,” Bee begins, “you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. What you choose to share is completely up to-”

But she doesn’t even finish her sentence before Aaron interrupts, making a low, frustrated noise in the back of his throat as he answers, “Fine! Nicky was spouting off some bullshit theory of what you do when you think…when you think other guys are hot.” He rushes to finish the statement as if he’s ashamed for even saying the words before he moves on. “Then he kind of said that maybe someday you wouldn’t be with Neil. Especially since you won’t cop to admitting you’re in a relationship with him. And Neil overheard it. And then, like the jealous fuck he is,” Aaron’s voice grows louder, gaining momentum now, “he decided to take it out on the rest of us instead of talking to you. Guess he didn’t feel comfortable. Gee, I wonder why that is, _Andrew._ ” 

Andrew grips the arm of the sofa so tightly now that he wonders fleetingly if he’s going to tear it. 

“So you feel that Neil is currently lashing out at others because he’s hurt and feels unconfident?” Bee asks. 

“I feel like instead of acting like a normal person and fighting in private, _like the rest of the world_ , Josten has to take down the whole damn team with his dramatics! I mean, god, that practice the other day was a mess, Andrew. He literally has a fistfight in the locker room, defending your honor or some shit, and then an hour later, you wipe the floor with him. It would make me want to punch you in the face. I don’t know how he stood it.”

Aaron’s goading him, and it almost works. Andrew’s thrown by this new tidbit, wants to know exactly what the fuck his twin is talking about, but he refuses to let him have the satisfaction. 

He scoffs instead. “Like we haven’t been witness to your temper tantrums whenever some guy talks to Katelyn.”

“Right!” Aaron turns to Andrew now and lifts his hand like Andrew’s proved his point. “Exactly! Because I felt jealous. Which is exactly how Neil has been acting!”

Andrew scowls.

“And why did you feel jealous?” Bee asks. 

Aaron shrugs and states matter-of-factly, “Because I know she’s better than me. I know I don’t deserve her. I’m lucky to have Katelyn and know she could choose someone else whenever she feels like it.”

Rage instantly burns through Andrew, igniting within him like gunpowder from a match. He whips towards Aaron furiously and points his finger in his face, snarling, “You are worth more than her, a thousand times over. Never let me hear you say otherwise again. Do you understand?”

Aaron is struck silent for a moment, his eyes wide as he stares at Andrew. Andrew stares back, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The moment stretches, sticky and tenuous. Something aching and vulnerable passes between them. 

Then they both turn away, unable to hold each other’s gazes any longer. 

Aaron takes a deep breath before he says quietly, “I’m going to marry her someday, Andrew. If she’ll have me.”

Andrew swallows. “I know.”

“You have to accept that.” He pauses before adding, “Neil has.”

Andrew is silent. 

“I’m not going to beg you, but I am asking you not to make me choose.”

“What, like you made me?” Andrew accuses. 

Aaron’s hands fist between his knees where he’s hunched over them. “I did that so we could both get what we wanted. So that we could have a future. You do this to split us apart.” 

A sour taste fills Andrew’s mouth, coating his tongue so that he can barely swallow. 

When he doesn’t respond, Bee asks, “Is that true, Andrew? Are you trying to split Katelyn and Aaron up?”

Andrew’s jawline tenses. “No.”

“Would you be happy if Katelyn was out of Aaron’s life?”

“I wouldn’t feel anything,” Andrew answers. 

Aaron huffs. 

“And Aaron? Would he be happy?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Andrew shrugs. “He just needs to be safe.” His voice is strong, confident. Pragmatic. He speaks nothing but the truth.

Yet Aaron jerks back as if Andrew’s slapped him. 

Bee nods. “And you don’t think Aaron will be safe with Katelyn?”

“I…” Damn it, Bee. He walked right into that one. Andrew grinds his teeth together and forces himself not to fidget as he looks her dead in the eye. “Yes.” Then he crosses his arms and leans back against the couch. He doesn’t look at Aaron. 

Bee hums, jotting down something quick in her notebook. “And what about you, Aaron?” she asks now. 

Aaron looks startled, ripping his gaze away from Andrew to stare back at Bee. “What about me?”

“If Neil was out of Andrew’s life, would you be happy?”

He snorts. “Of course.”

“And Andrew? Would he be happy?”

Aaron frowns at Bee as if this is a trick question. “I don’t…” Then he stops and, after a few seconds of silence, has nothing else to add.

“What if Andrew had someone new come into his life? Would it be acceptable then?”

“Someone new?” Aaron parrots, eyes widening. “That’s not…he wouldn’t…”

Andrew nearly snorts at his brother’s sudden inability to speak.

Bee waits and finally asks quietly, “What do you want for your brother, Aaron? When you look to the future, what do you see for him?” She smiles. “You’ve just said how important it is to you that Andrew accepts Katelyn. Because you see both of them in your future. So, isn’t it natural that Andrew would ask the same of you towards Neil if he sees both of you in his?”

His twin has stalled out. His eyes are flicking back and forth between Andrew and Bee, his mouth open, but no sound escapes from him. He looks like a gawping fish. If Andrew were still on his meds, he would have been laughing hysterically by now. 

“I want you to think about it too, Andrew. When you look to the future, what do you want for your brother?”

His amusement dies quickly. 

Andrew glares at Bee. She knows he wants nothing. He especially wants nothing for his brother- he’s only focused on what Aaron needs. Aaron needed to stay away from Drake. He needed to be rid of that abusive woman. He needed to get off the drugs. He needs to play Exy so he can keep his scholarship. He needs to stay in college to earn his degree and make a living for himself. He needs to be safe and secure.

Beyond that is none of Andrew’s concern. 

So he says it. “I don’t want anything for him.”

A frustrated noise escapes his brother. “Of course. Why would I expect anything less?”

What little patience Andrew has left is quickly snuffed out. “Then don’t. Go off and live a perfectly boring life with your little cheerleader, and don’t look back.”

“I would never do that, Andrew!”

“Why not?”

Aaron splutters. “What-what do you mean-”

“I’ve expected you to from the moment we met.”

And he has. Andrew says it with absolute certainty. Since the day they met, Andrew has expected Aaron to leave him. It was why he made the deal to begin with, to bind Aaron to him with something other than blood. Because blood has never mattered in the ways he’s needed it to. 

But they hadn’t even made it through college before that was broken. Now there’s nothing Andrew has that’s enough to keep Aaron. 

Andrew will not force anyone to be with him. They always have a choice.

Aaron stands up, his face red, fury infused into every feature. His voice shakes when he shouts, “Jesus, you can be such a fucking monster sometimes, Andrew! You think you know everything. Well, then answer me this: why can’t you understand that maybe the reason why you hate Katelyn so much is the same reason why I hate Neil?”

Then he whips open the office door and slams it shut behind him. The reverberations rattle the crystal figurines on Bee’s walls slightly. 

There’s silence in the room as Andrew stares down at his hands in his lap. 

“Andrew,” Bee says calmly. “Do you feel comfortable continuing? I know you asked for some time to speak to me alone. Do you feel able to do so now? Or would you like to stop for today?”

Andrew thinks about it. The conversation with Aaron definitely has him feeling off-center, but he thinks he can keep going. What he has to speak about with Bee is just too important to wait. 

He nods. 

Bee smiles and then gestures for him to begin. 

“Neil,” Andrew starts and then stops. He reaches forward and takes his hot chocolate mug in hand again, covering up a deep breath to steady himself with the movement. “We…fought. I think.”

“You think?” Bee repeats, her voice calm and non-judgmental. There’s no look of surprise or confirmation on her face. She simply waits patiently for Andrew to explain.

It’s not like she knows for sure. When Andrew called her that night, he had barely been able to speak, couldn’t even have explained if he wanted to. She’d simply took him through breathing exercises and quietly walked him off the ledge of the full-on panic attack he was experiencing. 

“We’re not talking. Now.” Andrew clarifies. 

“And what do you think caused it?”

Andrew looks down carefully into his mug. He slides his finger around the rim. “He said that…we’re different. That I have a choice. That I don’t owe him anything.” 

“Different?”

“I think he meant sexually,” Andrew states. “Our orientations. That he’s demi, while I’m gay.”

“And this difference is a problem?”

“I don’t know,” Andrew shakes his head. “It hasn’t been before.”

“Why did he bring it up now?”

“He said, ‘this doesn’t have to be it for you,’” Andrew growls the words, anger building again as he repeats them. “Like I could have other options even though he can’t.” 

“And he was upset because he feels like he doesn’t have that same choice?”

“No,” Andrew says, frustrated. “Maybe? I do not-” He cuts himself off. His tongue feels like it’s becoming as knotted as his brother’s. He’s confused by what Aaron has said, doesn’t know what to think. 

“And why do you feel upset by that?”

“Because I would never-” he starts vehemently before cutting himself off again.

“You would never what, Andrew?” Bee asks and then waits. 

He sets his mug back on the table and runs his hands over his face. “Someone else,” Andrew mumbles, his voice low and hesitant. “I would never…with someone else…not while I’m with…”

“‘Not while you’re with’?” Bee repeats, but Andrew is silent. Bee decides not to push and moves on. “And why is that?”

“Because…”

She waits again, but it’s all Andrew can manage to make out. He feels like his throat is closing in on itself, each word slipping out like a bitter aftertaste. 

“Does Neil know you feel like this?”

“He should,” Andrew snaps and isn’t sure where the anger is coming from. 

“Why?”

“Because I told him that I…,” Andrew grits his teeth to get the words out. “...I told him to stay. Back in Baltimore.”

Bee nods, encouraging him to go on.

“But he said he never did the same.”

“What do you think he meant by that?”

What did Neil mean?

Back in Baltimore, when he’d asked to stay, Andrew's acceptance had been purposeful but easily given. After all, it was just a slight admission on Andrew’s part - a small bending of the rules. As he’s told himself several times, it didn’t mean anything more than permitting Neil to stay conveniently nearby. It still gave Andrew complete control to end things when and if it suited him. 

So then why had Neil rattled him so badly the other night? What was it about those words – _but_ _I never asked you the same_ \- that affected him so much?

Did Neil’s admission mean he felt indebted to Andrew somehow? Was Neil locked in a gilded cage? The word _stay_ a pair of velvet handcuffs? Had Andrew unknowingly trapped Neil here by some twisted form of guilt? Was he forcing Neil to stay, regardless if Neil wanted to or not?

Or was the whole thing some kind of sick power move by Neil? Some last act twist where Neil tells Andrew that he never needed him? Never was interested in anything more? Neil is a brilliant liar, after all. He’s fooled Andrew once before. Perhaps he just needed Andrew to accept him staying in Palmetto because he knew it was his only chance at a life and the real thing he loved: Exy. 

Neil’s never asked about the future. He’s never told Andrew whether he wants him here after graduation. What happens next when Andrew grasps that slim piece of paper in his hands. 

He’s never asked him to stay. 

And maybe there’s a reason for that. 

“That he does not want what I have offered,” Andrew says bitterly. The words threaten to rip him apart even now, in the safety of Bee’s office. But he forces himself to put them out there, in the open, where they can examine them together. “Just because I said one thing does not mean he must reciprocate.”

“Are you sure that’s what he meant?” Bee asks softly. “Are those the exact words he used?”

Andrew pauses, thinking back. It hadn’t been, but…what else could Neil have meant? 

“No,” he admits finally. 

When Andrew doesn’t say anything more, Bee taps her pen against her notebook for a bit as she thinks. “When you said ‘stay,’ Andrew, what exactly did you mean?”

That Neil wasn’t going anywhere. He was staying with them- staying with Andrew- where he could keep an eye on him. Keep him safe. It meant that Andrew could breathe easier, sleep better, knowing Neil is in the bunk below him. That he could watch Neil spit fire one moment and feed him words to talk him off a ledge the next. That they could share cigarettes and play stupid Exy together, and steal kisses between Neil’s smothered grins. That he could look for blue, blue eyes, and shockingly red hair in a parking lot and always find him, leaning up against Andrew’s most prized possession. Smirking and pissing Andrew off with his annoying mouth and those long, sculpted legs.

“That he would stay in Palmetto. Remain a Fox,” Andrew says now, impassively. 

“Is that it?” Bee asks, gentle and yet ruthlessly persistent. 

Andrew can feel a tic in his jaw as he answers, “It meant that he wouldn’t go into stupid WITSEC. That Kevin could continue his dumb Exy project. And the others could keep their new toy.”

Bee nods. “So when Neil asked, you agreed that he should stay in Palmetto so that he wouldn’t have to suffer alone in a government program that would completely uproot his life again. He could keep playing the game he loved, and he could maintain all of the relationships with his friends and teammates that he’d worked so hard to build. That’s all very selfless, Andrew. Yet none of it speaks to whether you want him here.” She leans forward a bit in her chair, her glasses perching precariously on her nose. “Do you think that’s something he might be wondering as well?”

Now Andrew is the one who is struck dumb. He stares at Bee, her words tumbling through the rabbit hole of his mind, whispers echoing in darkened corridors. 

“Have you told him what he means to you, Andrew?”

Andrew swallows, his chest nearly caving in from the mere thought of such a conversation. “He means nothing.”

“It’s been almost three years since you’ve started this relationsh-”

“There is no ‘this’!” The words come out sharp, panicked. His chest is heaving as he fights to draw breath, his pulse beating furiously beneath his skin. He leans forward, clutching both of his knees in his hands as he tries to settle down. 

Bee is silent, writing in her notebook as she patiently waits for him to regain control. When he cautiously leans back again, she makes eye contact once more. 

“That word isn’t on our list,” she starts quietly. Her tone isn’t accusatory or defensive. She stares at Andrew with gentle understanding. “Would you like to tell me why it’s upsetting you now?”

Andrew vehemently shakes his head. 

“Okay,” Bee nods, jotting some more notes in her notebook. “But we’ve discussed relationships before, Andrew-” and she observes his flinch but keeps going, “-and I want you to recall how we talked about the meaning and depth of that connection is defined only by the two people involved - regardless of what others may think or assume. It’s when there’s different expectations or assumptions between those two people regarding their relationship that misunderstandings can occur.”

She pauses for a second, as if deciding something. Then she says, “Would you say that something like this may be happening regarding your relationship with Neil?”

Andrew’s nails dig into the couch cushion. “I said, we don’t have-”

“Peer, Teammate, Friend,” Bee uses her fingers to tick off each word on her hand. “You know that these are all different kinds of relationships, Andrew, each one a layer deeper than the next. It’s like your relationship with Kevin. Or Nicky, or Aaron.” She pauses again, then asks, “Or are you telling me that Neil is none of these things?”

Peer. Teammate. Friend. All of these sound…too distant. Too small for what he has with Neil, but…he supposes they are all technically true. So why does he feel so unsatisfied about it?

Andrew scowls. Goddamn Bee for using reality checks against him. “No,” he says shortly because he’s not an idiot. Though somehow, right now, he still feels like a fool. 

"Then I think we can safely establish you have a relationship with Neil. Correct?”

Andrew hesitates. But Bee’s office is safe. Nothing they say in here is discussed outside of it. Bee always keeps her mouth shut. 

And besides, he’s not admitting to anything more than what Bee just said. Neil is Andrew’s peer; his teammate; his… _friend_. The last word sits uncomfortably in the back of his throat, the urge to sneer at it tempting, but Andrew chooses to ignore it. After all, _friend_ is the lesser of two evils. Isn’t it?

Slowly, he nods. 

Bee continues to wait, though, so Andrew swallows and grits out the word, “Yes.”

She nods. “So the fact that you’ve introduced sexual activities into this relationship does not necessarily mean that anything has changed, as long as both of you understand this and establish your boundaries. Neither of you is obligated to force it to mean something that it’s not.” Bee studies him carefully. “But it doesn’t mean that it has to stay that way forever either. Both of you are allowed to want something more.”

Andrew sucks in a breath, his stomach twisting again. “I want nothing,” he snaps automatically.

“Andrew,” Bee says firmly. “We’ve talked about this.” 

Andrew clenches his jaw. 

“It is okay to want things. To feel desire towards something or someone. It doesn’t mean you have to act towards the desire, nor do you have to say it out loud. But denying its existence altogether isn’t healthy.” She leans forward. “You are not a horrible or selfish person for admitting that you want something. As long as you understand that you won’t always get it. And that’s normal, Andrew- it’s something all of us experience and learn to live with. It does not have to define who we are.”

Andrew doesn’t respond. It seems on this they will always disagree. Because Bee doesn’t understand that there’s no point in wanting things if you _never_ get them. If the answer is always ‘no,’ or ‘not yet,’ or ‘not this time,’ you learn to stop asking. If the thing that you want is constantly mocked, used against you, or taken away at the last moment, you learn to stop yourself from liking it to begin with.

Wanting something is a weakness - a weakness Andrew can’t afford to have. So it’s better not to want anything at all. 

Bee mimics Andrew’s silence as she thinks. She drums her fingers on her lap before she tilts her head. “May I offer you some advice, Andrew?”

It takes him longer to consider than he likes before he finally nods. 

Bee closes her notebook, setting it aside on her desk. “From what you’ve told me about him, Neil seems very attuned to words. He pays attention to the ones you omit and hyper focuses on the ‘yes or no’ exchange you’ve established. Neil always states his intentions and is persistently vocal because he knows it’s something you need. He’s very aware of the boundaries and rules,” Bee says objectively. “It’s what makes him an exceptionally good partner for you.” 

Andrew responds to this with a derisive sniff.

Bee smiles in return. “You, in turn, are a calming effect. You’re a stable foundation, steadfast and caring. You ground him. You’re his shoulder to lean on, the calm in a storm, the beacon that draws him home. But you like to provide this care through actions. Most of the time, Neil understands and draws support from this.” 

And now she fixes him with a firm eye. “There is nothing wrong with either of your methods- both are valid and can offer what each of you needs. But just like how you sometimes require touch, Neil also sometimes requires words. He never assumes that what you tell him is anything but the truth. He believes you, word for word. So when you tell him that you want nothing- or that there is no ‘this’ - why should he have any reason to doubt you?”

Andrew doesn’t speak. He can’t. There is nothing left for him to say. 

“If you constantly push people away, Andrew, then you will get exactly what you expect. No one will stay.”

_I told Neil to stay._

“They may assume that it’s what you want. But it isn’t, is it?”

 _I want him to stay_. 

The realization is like a lock finally snapping into place. It’s dropping an anchor into the water and suddenly feeling light from the burden while still grounded in the knowledge that you’re secured by something deep below. 

“There is a choice you will have to make at some point, Andrew, where you must decide which is greater: the fear of losing him? Or the fear of sharing yourself with him and potentially becoming something more?” 

_Is he only ever allowed to be that person, or can he become something more? Or does becoming something more mean everything around him has to change with it?_

“I'm not sure I can change,” he whispers offhandedly. 

Bee smiles at him. “What makes you think that either of you hasn’t changed already?”

Andrew stares at her and says nothing. 

Bee glances up at the clock. “I believe that’s all we have time for today, Andrew. I do highly advise you to speak with Neil once more. It seems like there may be things that both of you are missing. And you won’t be able to uncover what they are unless the two of you work together on it.” She leans back and smiles again. “Of course, I’m always happy to have Neil come in and speak with both of you if you think that would help.”

Andrew rolls his eyes, not even bothering to respond to that ridiculous suggestion. Neil would never be caught dead within ten miles of Redkin if he could help it. He stands up and moves towards the door.

“Until next time, Andrew,” she calls out cheerfully. 

He salutes her half-heartedly and walks out.

\---

He finds Aaron walking alongside the road not far from the counseling center. 

He swings the Maserati onto the shoulder and rolls down his window. “Get in,” he calls back to his brother. 

Aaron looks like he’s considering ignoring Andrew before practicality wins out. He jerks the door open, jams himself into the seat, and snaps it shut. 

Neither of them says anything as Andrew pulls back out into traffic. 

Practice should be close to ending by now. Usually, Andrew would drive Aaron and himself directly back to Fox Tower, but Nicky specifically requested a ride that day, saying that Matt was busy taking care of something. Though annoyed, Andrew overlooks this inconvenience since he knows Boyd caravans his family back and forth from the court every day. It’s one less nuisance for him to handle, so he’ll take this outlier over dealing with it regularly. 

He stops at a crosswalk and stares at the bright red stop sign. 

Neil hasn’t come back. 

He’s been absent from their room for almost a week now, with Andrew’s only glimpses of him being during their team practices. Andrew hasn’t seen him in the dining hall, hasn’t found him near any of his classes. He hasn’t even bothered to show up to Kevin’s night sessions, which has caused Kevin to start muttering to himself in their room, irritated and worried. It fills Andrew with something harder to define, something that gnaws at his gut nightly, making him toss and turn as sleep evades him.

He steps on the gas, pushing the car forward down the road.

Perhaps Andrew should tell someone, like Bee or Wymack, but he feels oddly reluctant to bring the topic up. He knows that he’s the cause for this disappearance, but the decision is Neil’s choice. It feels like he’s breaking Neil’s trust by involving anyone else (and though he can’t help Kevin from seeing what’s obvious, the fact that he knows feels like a breach of privacy already). It’s only Neil’s business where he goes each night, how he spends his time. Not Andrew’s. 

Or perhaps he’s just too cowardly to admit he doesn’t want anyone else to know what they’re going through. 

“Why don’t you believe me?” Aaron demands suddenly, breaking their mutually agreed-upon silence at a stoplight. 

Andrew glares at the bright, jarring red of the light as his mind is forced to change direction. “Believing is for little kids who still wait up for Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. It’s a word people use to convince you of a lie.”

“But I’m not lying, and I’m not just anyone. I’m your brother.”

“And what, that makes you special?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Andrew.”

“No,” Andrew tilts his head back and pretends to think. “You just don’t speak the truth and believe that’s not lying.”

Aaron groans as they pull into the Court parking lot. “You can’t chastise me for Katelyn when you kept Neil a secret from me too!”

“Neil doesn’t count.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Right. He’s ‘nothing.’ Which is why you allowed us to break our agreement rather than reject him, obviously. You’re such a sore loser.”

Anger flares, swift and sudden. “I let you out of our deal because you wanted any excuse to break it. For her.”

“Of course, I wanted out for her. I’m not ashamed to say that. But it was holding us both back, Andrew. You know it was. I wanted to move forward.”

“I don’t care what you want.”

Andrew opens the door and steps out of the car, moving to lean against the hood. He drags a cigarette out of his back pocket and puts it in his mouth but doesn’t light it. He just lets it sit there as Aaron follows him out of the car, determined to keep talking.

“No, you don’t care about what _you_ want. Which includes being something more with Neil. Why won’t you admit your feelings for him?” Aaron asks, his tone genuinely curious. “I love Katelyn with everything I have-”

“There is nothing to admit. We are not burdened by your perspective of what we should have. What Neil and I do or do not feel will not be judged by you.”

“But nor will it be understood,” Aaron argues. 

“It does not have to be. Not by you.”

“But surely by Neil.”

“Neil knows.”

“Does he, Andrew?”

“Of course he does,” Andrew states flippantly, but it’s said too fast, too quickly to ring true, and Aaron catches it. 

“Are you sure? Because he doesn’t act like it.”

Andrew sighs, growing tired of this conversation already. Usually, after a session like today, they separate - two heavyweights going back to their corners. Typically, it takes them a day or two of licking their wounds to get back to some semblance of normal. So it’s beyond Andrew’s comprehension why Aaron has decided to come back into the ring today and keep swinging. 

He stands up, sticks the unlit cigarette behind his ear, and turns to stare at his brother now. Aaron squares his shoulders, bracing himself. Andrew leans his entire weight into his drilling gaze as he asks, “Why don’t you like him?”

Aaron doesn’t even pause to draw breath. “He lies. Lied since the day we met him. Lied and omitted things to make sure he got his way.” He pauses and tilts his head. “And you hate liars, _remember_?”

“I called out every one of his lies except one, and each lie he told was either to protect others or prevent someone from killing him. He hasn’t lied since,” Andrew says coolly. 

His mind immediately balks at that statement though because here’s the thing: Neil had lied. White lies, and most of them by omission and avoidance - but as they both know, those are the easiest ways to lie. Andrew’s real question is…why?

The answer is likely more complicated than Andrew’s willing to get into with Aaron right now.

“Just like that, and now whatever he says is true? Why should I believe him? Why should I believe what his intentions are towards you?” 

“Because believing is for goddamn three-year-olds, and you should trust _me_ ,” Andrew says as if this is obvious. Because it fucking should be. 

Aaron scoffs. “When you won’t do the same of me? About Katelyn?”

“I know nothing about her.”

“Exactly. You know nothing and yet still assume she will hurt me. Yet I know everything about Neil.”

Andrew bristles. “No, you don’t.”

Aaron lifts an eyebrow. “I know what matters. I know who owns him, Andrew.”

Andrew’s eyes flicker towards their other teammates, who are starting to trickle out of the locker rooms. “Shut up.”

“They will own you too.”

“I said shut up, Aaron.”

“What will you do when they come for him? One day? Because you know they will.”

Andrew falls silent. 

Aaron shakes his head, casting his gaze aside bitterly. “That is why I hate him. Because one day you will leave with him and never return.” He stares back up at Andrew, his eyes burning fiercely. “You cannot ask me to be okay with it.”

It is not for him to ask. He cannot control his brother’s feelings any more than Aaron can hope to cause Andrew’s. There are just some things that are beyond them both. 

But it doesn’t mean Andrew won’t die fighting. 

The two brothers stare at each other for a moment. Andrew is beyond done with this conversation. He’s quickly reaching his limit of words for the day, but his brother looks like he’s gearing up for more. 

Andrew sighs. He feels worn and ragged - like a used dishcloth, wrung out and ripping at the seams. Hanging on by a single thread. 

He wonders if today will be the day someone finally throws him away. 

“Say something, Andrew.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that it doesn’t mean that much. Tell me you will walk away at some point and leave him behind.”

Kevin frowns as he walks up to the two of them, his brow furrowing as he draws nearer. Wisely, he keeps his mouth shut. 

“Why should I?” Andrew snaps. 

“Because he will destroy you, Andrew!” Aaron shouts now. “He’ll hurt you, and either you’re too stubborn to see it or too self-destructive to care!”

“Guys? Is everything okay here?” Matt slowly approaches them. He acts like a hostage negotiator, keeping his hands raised where the twins can see them and his voice gentle as if not to spook them. They both ignore him. 

“And why do you?” Andrew fires back. “What does it matter to you?”

“Because you’re my brother, Andrew, and he doesn’t deserve you!”

The words spur something to snap inside Andrew. How convenient of Aaron to play the brother card now when it suits his motives. He’s so tired of this. So sick and tired of people telling him what he should do, how he should act, assuming what he does or does not want. 

“As if you would know,” Andrew snarls, and Aaron’s head whips back. “Yes, he will destroy me, and yes, I will let him. Neil is the one I want, so fuck your opinion and whatever else anyone thinks I deserve!”

He hears a gasp from behind him, and instinctively his eyes flicker to where the sound came from. Apparently, their team has stopped to watch. There’s a crowd gathered around them now, and standing behind them is Nicky and Neil. Nicky’s eyes are wide open, and he has a hand up towards his mouth, which tells Andrew he’s the one who likely cared enough to make the noise. 

But it’s Neil’s eyes that defeat him. 

There’s a dead look to them that Andrew hasn’t seen since Neil first came to Palmetto. He’s exhausted, probably hasn’t been sleeping well wherever he’s been hiding. Andrew thinks he might even have lost some weight. 

He stares at him but gets no reaction. No response that tells him whether Neil even heard what he’d just said. But despite whether he’s heard it or not, Andrew knows this is when Neil usually intervenes. The team always expects him to calm Andrew’s temper, to mediate whatever quarrel Andrew’s become involved in. What they don’t seem to realize is he doesn’t always take their side. Sometimes he just comes and gloats while Andrew doles out whatever punishment seems fit, which makes him more of a wild card than anyone probably expects. But he’s always there; negotiating, laughing, or egging Andrew on. 

Today, Neil just walks away. 

It’s a clear decision not to get involved. He takes the scene in with a critical eye and then simply turns away from the crowd, a blank expression on his face. He’s moving towards Matt’s truck, which seems to spur Matt into action. He jogs to catch up with Neil, unlocking the vehicle before they reach it. Then they both climb in and drive away. 

Andrew doesn’t expect it to hurt. 

But it does. 

He feels…rejected. Cast aside. Not worth the effort. 

It makes him dig his keys into his palm so hard that he can almost feel them tearing the skin. 

“Andrew?” Kevin whispers. 

He hadn’t realized Kevin had gotten so close, and it makes him jerk backward a couple of steps. He disguises the movement by continuing to walk around the car. 

“Andrew?” Nicky repeats, his voice growing a little more urgent as Andrew slides behind the driver's seat and slams the door. 

He takes off and leaves all of them standing on the curb.

When he finally comes home in the wee hours of the morning, Neil still isn’t there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOF. GUYS. OMG, my brain after this one. Absolute mush.
> 
> I feel like I have the *smallest* inkling of what Andrew might feel like after one of his sessions with Bee b/c holy crap, was I DONE after this chapter. I must have reread it like a 1000x to ensure Andrew was as in character as possible. BUT I’m super happy with how it turned out and would LOVE to know what you guys thought.
> 
> I’ve never been to a therapy session so I tried to research as much as I could, but I’m sure there are moments that Bee seems OOC- hopefully, that didn’t throw things off too much!
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you again for all of your support and wonderful comments!!
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> He stakes a claim by the wall and watches as the rest of his group separates. There are some students from Aaron’s med program that he seems to be on a nodding basis with; Kevin's gotten roped into a debate with some random girl on politics in the Middle East; and he’s pretty sure that Nicky has no idea who the group of kids are that he’s talking to, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping any of them. 
> 
> Perfect. So it’s just Andrew who’s suffering tonight. 
> 
> He watches a few of the underclassmen from their team arrive at some point, and while most of them avoid Andrew’s gaze, Brian, Rob, and Jess actually nod to him. It surprises Andrew, but not enough to make him react in return. 
> 
> Then, a little while later, he spots Matt coming down the stairs, his vast, hulking frame boisterously dragging a small, reluctant redhead behind him. 
> 
> Neil.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I of Andrew and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andrew has a ROUGH TIME y’all. Oof. 
> 
> T/W: Homophobic comments, Explicit Violence Scene (starts riiiigghhhttt after Matt/Andrew's convo if you want to skip!), Alcoholism, Vulgar Language
> 
> (See? I mean it- seriously bad night 😓)

“Make way for the Queen!” Nicky shouts over the music as he enters the crowded basement room. Shockingly, this tactic seems to work, although it has Kevin burying his face in his hands as they walk through the parting of the crowd. 

“Jesus Christ, Nicky, will you shut up?”

“Absolutely not. Not when this is working so well. Besides-,” Nicky grins back at the striker. “-you’re the one who tattooed it on your face. Should’ve thought twice if you didn’t want people calling you out on it!”

Kevin groans and shakes his head. 

Nicky slides up to the bar and pounds a hand on the flat, tacky surface. “Hit me, barkeep!”

The acne-faced kid grins at him before sliding down an unopened Coors Light bottle. Nicky nearly gags. “Oh, hell no, are you kidding me?” he shoves the beer off on Aaron before he turns back. “What else you got?”

“Budweiser, Corona Light, or the punch bowl.” The kid shrugs with zero remorse. 

“Ugh, fine, give me a Corona.”

Again, an unopened bottle comes sliding down the bar. “What, no lime?” Nicky says scornfully. “Fucking animals.”

He gets a bottle of Bud for Kevin before he turns to Andrew. “Umm…”

“Jack Daniels. Two fingers.”

“Uhh…” the kid looks at him wide-eyed as if he has no clue what Andrew’s talking about. 

“Andrew, he just said-” Nicky starts, but Andrew holds up a hand, cutting off his cousin’s sentence while he never breaks eye contact with the faux-bartender. He waits. 

The kid sighs. Then he pulls out a glass and a sealed bottle hidden in the cabinet under the sink. “Neat or on the rocks?”

“On the rocks,” Andrew confirms as Nicky gapes. 

The guy kicks open a cooler nearby and swipes a few ice cubes into the glass. Each time a cube hits the hard surface, the clinking sound rings in Andrew’s ears. 

He thinks of how everything in his life right now feels like it’s coated in a bitter frost. Like those ice cubes have lodged in his throat or are rattling around inside his chest. His mind is the tundra; harsh, barren, and callous. Like Siberia or the Arctic - frozen wastelands covered in white drifts of snow.

White is sharp and unforgiving. It makes everything too bright to stare at directly without being blinded. The kind of color that lulls you into a false sense of security with its beauty while the cold takes its toll, blackening your fingers and numbing your toes. It scrapes icy claws over your heart and revels in the destruction.

White is merciless. And so is Andrew tonight.

He blinks as the kid slides the now-full glass down to him. Then he grabs it, turns, and walks away without a second glance. 

“How the hell did you-” Nicky starts before he shakes his head. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”

This works out well for Andrew because he’s in no mood to tell him. He’s in no mood to be at this stupid party, period, not that anyone’s really bothered to ask him. Because he knows the only reason they’re here is that they can’t go to Eden’s. Because they’re missing Neil. 

Although Andrew continues to see him at practice, Neil still hasn’t shown back up to their dorm room. He also hasn’t bothered to call or text Andrew, even though Andrew’s reached out several times. 

It means he doesn’t know where the fuck Neil is. And he’s beyond pissed about it. 

He stakes a claim by the wall and watches as the rest of his group separates. There are some students from Aaron’s med program that he seems to be on a nodding basis with; Kevin’s gotten roped into a debate with some random girl on politics in the Middle East; and he’s pretty sure that Nicky has no idea who the group of kids are that he’s talking to, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping any of them. 

Perfect. So it’s just Andrew who’s suffering tonight.

He watches a few of the underclassmen from their team arrive at some point, and while most of them avoid Andrew’s gaze, Brian, Rob, and Jess actually nod to him. It surprises Andrew, but not enough to make him react in return. 

Then, a little while later, he spots Matt coming down the stairs, his vast, hulking frame boisterously dragging a small, reluctant redhead behind him. 

Neil.

Andrew sucks in a breath. 

He watches as Matt weaves them through the crowd before depositing Neil safely amongst their teammates. The Foxes are delighted- he can see the way they positively perk up, clamoring for his attention. Their captain rarely joins anything social, and they’ve never had the opportunity to see him get drunk before. 

_Not that they’re going to get the chance now_ , Andrew scoffs internally. Neil won’t risk drinking in this kind of environment. It’s too dangerous, too vulnerable for his rabbit-like tendencies to even consider it. 

Then Andrew scowls before he forces his gaze elsewhere. 

And why the fuck does he care what Neil does or doesn’t do?

Neil is clearly avoiding him. Apparently, Andrew isn’t worth the time it takes to write back a quick text confirming he’s still alive. Apparently, Neil can just hang out with whomever he likes and has zero consequences for it because he isn’t “attracted” to anyone. Apparently, it’s only Andrew who has to be chastised for simply talking to others.

His jaw clenches hard as something cold and brittle shifts in his chest.

Though he tries not to, his gaze wanders back over to the group. He grips his glass tighter when a beautiful, brown-skinned girl clutches onto Neil’s arm. He’s only somewhat mollified by the fact that Neil is trying to brush her off, but he’s failing miserably. The woman looks smugly at the striker, like the cat who’s got the cream.

It makes Andrew see red.

His instinct is to stomp over there, twist her arm back until it bruises, and warn everyone in this room never to touch Neil again. 

But he hesitates—his stomach twists. 

He’s no longer sure he has the right. 

It’s irritating, this uncertainness. Andrew is not the type of person who falters. He is a man of hard decisions, who understands the price of choosing and pays it regularly.

The fact that he’s wavering now shows just how much Neil affects him. And that makes the anger burn even brighter. 

He focuses his attention back on his team and suddenly realizes that the whole group is looking over at him, including Neil. 

Neil’s eyes widen as they find Andrew. The girl’s brow furrows. 

Andrew nearly incinerates her with his gaze.

Wincing, she shrinks back, finally letting go of Neil. Then she fades back into the crowd, and Andrew doesn’t bother to see where she runs off to. Because he’s too busy staring at Neil. 

He doesn’t know what he wants him to do at this moment. Half of him is screaming for the idiot to march his ass over to Andrew and explain. To tell him exactly where he’s been and why this is happening so that Andrew can fix it. And then they can put this whole stupid thing behind them. 

But the other half of him wants Neil to stay precisely where he is, away from Andrew. To keep his distance so that Andrew can rebuild his walls and feel balanced again. To painfully mock and illuminate to himself how much Neil has taken over every aspect of his life before he wipes him out completely.

Perhaps this is exactly what they need. Something that separates the two of them, gives them a new perspective. Lets them breathe for a second, without the shadow of the other over their shoulder. 

Because Andrew is not someone to be controlled. Neil does not own him. No one tells him what to do. 

He’d mistakenly given Neil a leash once when he made their deal. But when Neil removed it, Andrew was careful not to repeat his blunder. Now there are no promises or deals between them. Andrew is a free entity, able to do what he likes. 

Neil should know this.

_Does Neil know you feel like this?_

Andrew nearly curses out loud as Bee’s voice comes back to haunt him.

_He should._

_Have you told him what he means to you, Andrew?_

_He means nothing._

Bee’s words push their way forward in his mind and stick, like dried bird shit on a windowpane. No matter how he scrapes and scrubs, they stay there, blocking his view and making an even bigger mess. It’s aggravating. 

_If you constantly push people away, Andrew, then you will get exactly what you expect. No one will stay._

Good, he isn’t making them. Andrew will not force anyone to be with him who doesn’t want to be. 

_They may assume that it’s what you want._

It is. It is what he wants. He doesn’t need anyone. Especially not some Exy-addicted, traumatized runner with an attitude who continually gets himself in trouble and doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. 

_But it isn’t, is it?_

_I want him to stay._

And again, it feels as if the bottom of Andrew’s stomach drops out. Feels like he’s free-falling off a ten-story building as the concrete surges towards him. He doesn’t know when it began, but he feels panicked now that he can see it happening. Now that he knows there’s no saving himself, no turning back. 

He’s a fool to think he could ever stop this.

What makes it worse is that he thinks he can see the same thing reflected in Neil’s eyes. He’s looking at Andrew like he’s falling just as fast. Like he’s drowning beneath the waves, and Andrew is the only one holding a rope. 

He’s this close to figuratively tossing it when Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron choose this moment to come back and annoy him. 

“You know, this is actually kind of fun,” Nicky grins as he stares at the group. “We should come check out these parties more often.”

Aaron shrugs. “They’re okay.”

Kevin wrinkles his nose. “It smells in here.”

Nicky rolls his eyes. “Oh, what, and Eden’s is a field of roses?”

“No, but I swear they’re directing people to throw up in that corner over there, and I think I saw some mouse droppings over on that table and did you see the disgusting state of that bathroom-”

They carry on talking about stupid shit that Andrew ignores. He continues to stare at Neil, unwilling to break this connection that he’s suddenly made with him. Couldn’t stop it if he tried. 

But he can’t read the look on his face. And he definitely doesn’t know what his is saying to Neil. 

Is he telling him to stay? Or is he telling him to go? 

Does he really want to know?

“What the hell are you staring at?” Kevin snaps at Andrew suddenly. Then he looks out across the crowd and finds Neil. His eyebrows wing up towards his hairline before they scrunch together. His mouth twists. 

Aaron follows Kevin’s gaze and is even more unpleased at what he finds. “Fucking Christ, are you kidding me? Josten is here? What are the odds?”

“Neil?” Nicky snaps, his head turning immediately. “Neil is here?”

He finds him and whips back towards Andrew. “Andrew, this is your chance! Go on, go talk to him! Find out what-”

“Shut up, Nicky,” Andrew seethes. “Go get some more drinks. Take Kevin and Aaron with you.” 

Nicky looks back at Neil and then again at Andrew. “But-”

“Now, Nicky,” Andrew snaps. 

Nicky winces before he grabs Kevin and Aaron, who are both protesting as he drags them away. 

Andrew shakes himself mentally.

He needs to stop dancing around this. He needs to either tell Neil to fuck off or drag him upstairs, out of this wretched basement and demand some answers. Either option is better than this pathetic staring contest they’re doing. 

He’s just about to push up from the wall and start towards Neil when someone else blocks his view. 

At first, he thinks it’s Nicky or Kevin and is about to tell them off when he gets a glimpse of black boots. 

No one has those boots on his team.

Slowly, Andrew lifts his gaze to find a hot guy staring down at him, grinning smugly. Andrew processes his appearance quickly. 

Slicked back hair. Painted-on jeans. Too-tight shirt, folded strategically to show off muscle. Collar popped. Permanent smirk. Reeks of cologne. 

The way he’s dressed tells Andrew he cares way too much about his looks, and the hand that plants itself by his head tells him how overconfident this guy is about said looks. 

In other words, he’s pathetic. And that’s before he starts talking.

“Hey,” he says. Andrew barely flicks him a glance. “Nice drink. Heard you talked Anderson into giving you some of the goods. Think I can talk you into the same?”

Oh yeah. This kid’s way too cocky. 

“The name’s Sean.” 

“Didn’t ask. Don’t care.”

The guy laughs as if this is funny. “Oh man, they said you had a mouth on you. They weren’t wrong.” He leans closer and looks lewdly down Andrew’s front. “But I was hoping to confirm that differently.”

Andrew barely stifles an eye roll. It’s been a while since he’s had to deal with one of these. Some closeted “straight” boy who finds him through the grapevine and wants to experiment with someone who will keep their mouth shut. Once upon a time, if he followed the rules, Andrew may have entertained this. But those days are long gone. He has no interest in what this prick is (or isn’t) offering.

So he says as much. “Not interested.”

“Ouch,” Sean smiles, amused. He licks his lips. “Sure? I think I’ve got something that could change your mind. Something I’ve heard you like. Big enough to shut up that sharp mouth of yours.” He chuckles. “Mm, can’t wait until you work me over with it. You’re gonna look so fucking good on your knees, I can already tell.”

Andrew’s jaw clenches. Okay, now he’s starting to get pissed. 

He watches Neil swallow as his eyes dart between Andrew and this asshole. 

When Andrew doesn’t immediately respond, Sean looks back to see what Andrew is staring at, and then he gives him another grin. “Oh, your friend interested in joining too? Never tried a threesome before, but I’m down.” He whistles as he steals another glance. “Have you fucked him before? The scars are a bit off-putting, but God, how I’d use that boy’s pretty mouth like a cheap whore if I had the chance…”

Andrew turns then. He lifts his hand to the edge of the man’s lapel. He slides his fingers down it before he crooks one into the vee of his collar and pulls him closer. He smirks up at him. 

And he shoves the sharp end of his knife against his belly with the other.

The man’s eyes pop open, his breath gushing out with a sudden whoosh. 

“Try it with either of us, and I’ll slice your dick off so fast they’ll have trouble finding it.” Andrew tilts his head. “Although it sounds like I’d already have trouble now.”

Sean's smile drops clean off him. He seethes, breath whistling through clenched teeth. “You fucking bitch-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Andrew chides, pushing the blade harder against his stomach. “You were leaving. Remember?”

The man snarls before he whips away. Andrew watches him push his way up the basement stairs and disappear into the night. 

Satisfied, he re-sheathes his knife back into his armband. He grabs his drink from the small table beside him before searching for Neil. But when he looks back, he isn’t there anymore. 

Breath catching, Andrew combs the room until he spots his redhead again. Over by the punch bowl. Downing what Andrew suspects isn’t his first glass of punch.

Oh, fuck no. This is not happening.

Andrew walks over to the bar and puts his drink down between Nicky and Kevin, right in the middle of their conversation. Then he goes to walk off when Kevin jumps in front of him. 

“Andrew, no, you can’t.”

Andrew glares up at him. “I can’t, what?”

Kevin stares down at him with something like pity in his eyes. “Neil is an adult, Andrew. If he wants to drink, it’s not your place to tell him he can’t.”

Andrew seethes, hands fisting against his sides. “Says the alcoholic,” he spits back at him.

Kevin winces but stays standing in front of him. 

“Andrew!” Nicky chides, but Andrew ignores him. 

The truth of Kevin’s statement infuriates him. He snarls at him, “It’s a fucking punch bowl, Kevin. He has no idea what the hell that shit has been spiked with. How many college parties do you think he’s been to?”

“It’s his decision to make,” Kevin repeats. “Keep an eye on him if you want, but if you interfere, he’s just going to resent you for it.”

Andrew’s jaw snaps shut. He stares murderously at the tall striker for a full minute before he snatches his glass and returns to his spot by the wall. 

He fumes silently, and he watches.

\---

Neil is drunk. He’s plastered, tanked, three sheets to the wind, whatever the hell you want to call it. He’s the most fucked up Andrew has ever seen him. 

And Andrew now understands why Neil paid someone to knock him out at Eden’s two years ago.

Because Neil Josten, without inhibitions, is _limitless_.

He watches as Neil flips a guy over after outshining him with his perfect Russian. He executes a couple of back handsprings, some round-offs, and a split after some goading from the cheerleaders. He dunks all six cups in two rounds of beer pong for Matt when the backliner futilely tries to convince Neil to go home.

And he does it all while talking with a different accent, for Christ’s sake. 

After some intense threatening from Andrew, Nicky finally manages to drag Neil away from the table and that stupid knife game (seriously, blindfolded? What the fuck, Josten?), but it barely seems to slow him down. He just flits from one disaster to the next.

It’s Kevin who actually catches him pick-pocketing. Andrew doesn’t even know what’s happening until Kevin walks up to Neil and cuffs him on the back of the head. It makes Andrew stand up straight from the wall as Kevin mutters exasperatingly in French. 

Neil _giggles_.

( _What the hell is in that punch?_ Andrew wonders not for the first time.)

Then he hands his wallet back over to him. 

But it’s not just Kevin’s wallet he’s grabbed. Neil starts pulling things out of his pockets left and right. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, cell phones, a watch, and more wallets appear in a steady pile on the table. Andrew doesn’t even know where he’d managed to put it all. But for some reason, people just laugh before they come forward to claim their stuff.

(Andrew has to admit this trick is almost worth it for the moment Aaron realizes it’s his watch that’s sitting on the table).

He thinks a particularly low moment is when Neil keeps explaining some “incompleteness theorem” to a couple of math nerds in the corner by repeating the same sentence over and over: “This statement cannot be proven true.” What’s even weirder is how they keep nodding and staring at him wide-eyed, as if awed by the simple sentence. It has Andrew shaking his head. 

But the worst is when someone manages to drag Neil into a game of darts. Because once they realize how good he is, darts somehow evolve back to knives, and now idiots are lining up to stand in front of the wall so that Neil can throw a knife at them, barely missing their face or limbs. A round of cheering echoes in the small room every time he sinks one into the wall.

What is with the morons in here? Does no one have a sense of self-preservation? 

Fucking adrenaline junkies.

If sober Neil is used to blending into a crowd, his drunk alter ego stands out in stark contrast. No one can take their eyes off him. Including Andrew- although his staring is for protective measures only, obviously.

It’s definitely not because he finds it attractive how Neil keeps stretching his arms up to flash that strip of skin between the bottom hem of his t-shirt and his jeans. Andrew has no problems ignoring that handsome grin Neil flashes right before he throws, his head cocked arrogantly to the side. And it doesn’t make him shudder at all to see Neil whip the blade at the wall, making it seem as if he’s missing everyone by a hair’s breadth when Andrew can see the calculation in his eyes, see how perfectly he places it each time. 

Yep, it’s fine. In no way, shape, or form is watching Neil lighting up every nerve on Andrew’s skin like a Christmas tree, his cock growing half-hard in his jeans as he fights to hold himself back from going over there, shoving Neil up against a wall, and making out with him.

Yep. No problem at all.

Shit. 

Andrew shifts himself uncomfortably as he tries to punch the stupid idea out of his head. He wouldn’t do it anyway. Not with Neil so far gone as he is. But it doesn’t stop his dumb brain from imagining it, from remembering the way his redhead melts beneath him as they kiss, his lips swollen and glossy, his eyes half-hooded and rolling back into his head as Andrew dips his hand down his-

Goddamn it.

Okay, fine. Neil is hot. Wickedly so tonight. But him being attractive is not the problem. Him making a giant-ass fool of himself in front of what feels like the entire PSU student body in this basement is. 

He really should stop this. Screw what Kevin thinks. Andrew’s not sure how he’s managed to hold himself back for so long, to be honest. He’s thought of ending this at least seven different times. 

But despite what Andrew thinks, it’s not like Neil is actually in danger (yet). In some ways, it looks like he might be having fun. It twists something inside of Andrew to watch his relaxed, carefree expression. To see how he isn’t looking at the exits for once, how a weight seems to have dropped clear off his shoulders. 

So he continues to watch him. He won’t let anything happen to Neil. Not tonight. If this is what he’s chosen to do, the least Andrew can do is keep an eye on him. Regardless of whatever is happening between them, Neil is still one of his. And he plans to keep it that way. 

But all of this doesn’t explain why he’s suddenly surrounded by his teammates. 

“This party is laaaaammmmeeeeee,” Dominick complains next to him. 

“Our captain is throwing knives at people, and you think it’s lame?” Rob asks, his mouth hanging open as he gapes at Neil. 

“Oh no, I mean, thank god for Cap. That’s some- that’s some real entertainment. But the rest of this party?” He blows a raspberry with his tongue as he points his thumb downwards. “Suuucccksss. I’m bored to tears over here.”

“I think you have some high standards for a college party, Dom,” Brian says amusedly on the other side of him. “I mean, this isn’t the movies. Not every party is straight out of Animal House.”

“Ugh, laaaaaaa-meh,” Dom says again, smacking his lips petulantly at the end of the word. “Right, Andrew?”

Andrew ignores him.

“See? Andrew agrees. ‘Cause he’s awesome. You know, _bacano_ -” Dom tells him now, flinging his hand out to grab Andrew by the shoulder. Andrew sidesteps so that it misses and smacks Dom in his own thigh, pitching him forward a bit, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “-it’s totally cool that you’re into guys. I mean, sorry that I thought you and Neil were together for, like, even a second, but it doesn’t matter to me either way. Which way you swing, that is.”

Andrew scowls at him. “And why the fuck do I care what you think?”

“Hmm,” Dom pauses, a befuddled frown crossing over his face. “That’s a great question-”

“Uh, dude, that’s code for: he doesn’t.” Brian fills in the gap for the drunk freshman. 

“Aww, Bri,” Dom grins. “Sorry, I said you were gay too, man. If you’d have just told me you had a thing for Jess, I woulda stopped right away-”

Brian kicks him in the shin, making the other backliner howl. No one comments on the way his face suddenly heats up.

Andrew rolls his eyes. God, this is why Neil is captain, not him. He doesn’t give a shit about the romantic entanglements of his teammates. Where the hell is the bastard now, anyway?

“Oh sod off, you bloody arsehole! Fucking knob. It’s your own fault you froze up like the shriveled bollocks of a half-drowned monkey. Walk it off, you coward!”

Oh. Right. Still drunk off his ass, hurling insults instead of knives at some drama student now. Christ.

“That’s right, mate. Go on and stick your head in the loo because you talk for shite!”

A small shiver races across Andrew’s skin as the words launch from Neil’s tongue. He ignores it.

Holding his shin, Dom scowls back at Brian. “So if Andrew doesn’t care,” he starts, roaming backward in the conversation as only drunks are wont to do, “then why did Neil?”

Andrew whips back towards the freshman. “Why did Neil do what?”

Rob’s head snaps back to look at Dom, his eyes growing wide as he makes a quick hand gesture at his throat. 

Dom ignores him.

“He scared the shit out of us, man. Made all sorts of threats. Thought Carlos was gonna crap his pants! Ha! Said not to talk about you ever again or else…shhhhh!” Dom laughs, drunkenly putting a finger up to his lips and shushing. 

“Why can’t you ever shut the fuck up?” Brian hisses at him now, looking warily at Andrew. 

Andrew narrows his gaze at him. But before he can start digging into whatever the hell Pisano was talking about, loud clapping and cheering interrupt his thoughts. 

Neil bows, nearly falling on his face until Matt grabs the back of his shirt and hauls him back up. Neil pats his cheek, but Andrew can tell it’s with a bit more force than Neil probably intends. There’s a loud smacking sound each time he connects with Matt’s face that has Boyd wincing. Then the obliterated striker apparently decides he’s done with this activity because he starts clumsily wandering away towards the basement staircase. 

Andrew frowns and starts to follow when Nicky stops him. 

“That. Was. Amazing!” he squeals as he pops up in front of Andrew, his arm wrapped around Jess’s. “Oh my god, I caught the whole thing on camera! Holy shit, wait until Dan and Allison hear about this! They’re gonna go nuts!”

Andrew doesn’t bother to roll his eyes. 

“Okay, but my question is, where did he get the knives?” Kevin puzzles. 

“Didn’t they bring them down from the kitchen?”

“Yeah, I think Neil asked for some heavy butter knives? He was all like, ‘if we’re gonna do this,’ and then shrugged,” Jess laughs as she tries to imitate Neil’s voice. “I just remember that kid bringing a bunch of them down the stairs and Neil bending them all until he seemed satisfied. Then boom! Knife throwing.”

“Okay, but like, did anyone know he could throw knives?” Nicky asks. “Anyone?”

Andrew tunes the others out as they keep gushing over their mysterious captain, his neck craning as he tries to get a glimpse of Neil once more. 

It isn’t until he hears someone laugh behind Brian that a trickle goes down his spine. “Whoa, did you see that redhead out back? He is fucked up.”

“Yeah, a total hottie,” another person says. “Minus the fact that he’s currently puking his guts out.”

“Dude is gonna feel it in the morning, man. Feel bad for the guy.”

Shit, were they talking about Neil?

Andrew immediately pushes past his teammates, abandoning them for the basement stairs. 

The night air is cool in comparison to the sweltering heat of the basement. He gulps it in as he makes it up the last step. He looks around the open backyard. There are a couple of partygoers here and there, but he doesn’t spot his redhead immediately. 

Rather, he hears him. 

The sound of retching makes him wince internally, and his head jerks to the right, toward the side of the house he can tell it’s coming from. He marches towards it but barely makes it a couple of steps before he runs into Boyd.

“Stay back, Andrew.”

Andrew glares up at him. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

“Neil saw the point you were making. With that guy. We all did. Now you can fuck off and leave him alone.”

Point? What point was he talking about? What the hell?

Andrew pauses and thinks back. Then he nearly groans. Of course the others thought he was flirting with the asshole. Of course they didn’t bother to ask him what happened.

He’s used to the assumptions from Boyd. The upperclassmen have always presumed the worst of him. It wouldn’t take much to push Boyd over the edge. But guessing by the way Neil is acting, he must have jumped to a few conclusions as well. 

And Neil assuming? That stings worse than Andrew expects it to. 

At least it explains the sudden interest in alcohol.

Andrew’s jaw clenches. He goes to move past the enormous backliner, but Matt holds out his arms as if he’s going to bear hug Andrew. Or maybe crush his windpipe. Either one is a distinct possibility from Boyd. But in this particular case, Andrew is pretty sure it’s the latter.

“I mean it, Andrew. Just stay away from him,” Boyd warns again. He lets out an irritated sigh, shaking his head. “Fuck, I just knew this would happen. I knew that one day you’d drop him because you got bored of him.” 

Bored of Neil? Andrew doesn’t even understand the words. 

Neil is contradictory. He’s unpredictable. Neil is interesting. 

Andrew could never be bored of Neil. 

He stares stubbornly at Matt, frustrated. He doesn’t understand.

Andrew just doesn’t want to feel ashamed for being who he is. He wants Neil to accept him just as much as he’s willing to accept Neil. Is that so wrong?

And besides, Neil was the one who said he didn’t want him anymore. Not Andrew. 

Andrew wants…fuck, what does he want?

_They may assume that it’s what you want. But it isn’t, is it?_

Bee’s words spring up again, and again Andrew mercilessly tries to shove them back. But this time, they won’t stay down. 

_I want him to stay._

Andrew swallows. He glares bitterly to the side. Then he croaks out, “I didn’t drop him.”

Matt stares at Andrew. “What?”

Andrew grits his teeth. “I said, I didn’t drop him.”

Boyd’s eyebrows draw together as if confused. “But…if you didn’t…and Neil said…wait, this doesn’t make sense-”

“Hey, faggot!”

Somehow Andrew knows this is directed at him, though he doesn’t give the man the satisfaction of turning around. 

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, asshole!”

“Seriously, Andrew?” Boyd hisses, eyeing up whatever the threat is behind him.

Slowly, Andrew turns.

The guy he had warned off earlier is back. And apparently, he’s part of the Rugby team. 

Andrew knows this now because he’s looking at approximately fifteen large, mean-looking guys, most of them in some kind of PSU Rugby attire.

The asshole smiles smugly. “What was that you were saying earlier about my dick? My _friends_ really want to hear it.”

“Wait, what?” Boyd whispers. “Isn’t he the one-”

“That you thought I was blatantly cheating on Neil with? Yep.”

Matt drags a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

The rugby team starts jeering, many of them slinging insults at the pair.

“Jesus, Andrew,” Matt whispers, stepping up next to him. “They’re fucking monsters. Why couldn’t you have pissed someone off on the tennis team instead?”

“Gee, I don’t know, Boyd,” Andrew muses. “Maybe because no one from the tennis team told me to ‘work them over’ with my mouth.”

He bristles. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Andrew fights against rolling his eyes. No, he does not ‘kid’ anyone. 

Instead, he juts his chin out and sneers at Sean, “Tell them to come closer then. I’ll be happy to tell them how small your dick is.” He tilts his head. “But I’m willing to bet some of them already know.” 

“Fucking Christ,” Matt whispers as the team starts running at them. 

“Time to run away, Boyd,” Andrew says, giving him one last out as he unsheathes one of his knives.

Matt snorts. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere.”

Then they throw themselves into the fray.

Immediately, Andrew ducks low and slams his foot into someone’s crotch. The guy screams, grabbing his groin with both hands and buckling. Andrew keeps moving. After all, he’s not here to fight fair. And he’s been in enough scraps in juvie to know where shit hurts. 

The next one comes directly at him, and he dances back as the man throws a punch, slashing him once in the hand and forearm. The guy immediately falls to his knees, clutching his now bleeding hand and arm to his stomach. He offers no resistance when Andrew slips past him. 

He takes a blow to the ear, which knocks him sideways. He slashes out blindly behind him and hears someone curse in return. A moment later, they’re grappling, the guy pinching some tendon that streaks pain up Andrew’s arm, forcing him to open his hand. He drops his knife and loses it immediately in the darkness. Cursing, he fumbles for it, which gives the guy an opening to catch him in the stomach. 

Andrew coughs and wheezes in return. 

Abandoning the knife, he pivots as the rugby player tries to knee him in the groin before punching him twice in the kidney. The guy hisses in pain, tripping forward as he clutches at his side. He exposes his back to Andrew, giving him an opening. He hits the back of the guy’s neck hard enough that he goes down and doesn’t get back up.

Andrew straightens, breathing hard, and hears the satisfying crunch of Matt’s fist hitting a jaw from wherever he is. It sings in Andrew’s ear, a beautiful sound, as he unsheathes his other knife. Matt’s devious cackle follows it, rippling through the air as Andrew moves forward into the fray, ducking and weaving again and again. 

This time, two of them come at him. The smaller one has a dark ponytail, and Andrew grabs onto it, yanking hard. He earns a jab to his side for that move, his other knife getting knocked out of his hands by a well-placed kick from the other one. 

_Well, that was fucking careless, self._

The second guy is larger, with a buzz cut and gaps in his teeth. Andrew knows because he grins at him before throwing a punch so hard that Andrew knows it would decimate him if it landed. Somehow, he manages to block it, but Buzz Cut just smirks. 

A second later, Ponytail kicks his foot into the back of Andrew’s knee. 

Andrew immediately drops to one leg, but he reaches back to grab where Ponytail’s leg meets his hip. He pinches and twists. Ponytail yelps, hopping backward in pain. 

Buzz Cut frowns, paying too much attention to what’s happening to his friend to stop Andrew from punching him in the throat. He drops to his knees, hands around his neck as he chokes, gasping for air. 

Andrew stumbles to his feet, turning to deal with the asshole behind him when Dom comes rushing out of nowhere and tackles him. “Fuck yeah!” he screams as they fall to the ground. “Now, _this_ is a party!”

Andrew blinks.

Dom starts whaling on the guy. Andrew turns back around to deal with Buzz Cut, only to find Brian already on it. 

Andrew does not have time to process this, though, because he becomes distracted again by someone swinging a fist at his face. He barely avoids it before he slams his foot into the guy’s knee. The rugby player howls in pain, falling to the ground, and Andrew doesn’t waste time smashing his elbow into the man’s cheek. 

He also doesn’t bother to wait and see where he lands. Andrew just turns and takes a running leap onto another player’s back, wrapping his arm around the man’s neck to choke off his air supply. In seconds, they both fall backward as the asshole passes out. 

Andrew shoves the unconscious body off him. He's panting, ragged breaths torn from his lungs as he somehow staggers to his feet again. He’s barely vertical, though, before someone catches him in the lip, busting it. It has him seeing stars, stumbling back. He trips over something and sprawls, falling hard on his ass. When his gaze clears, he sees the guy who started this whole damn spectacle standing over him, a small pocketknife in his hand.

Immediately, Andrew is scrambling to whip out his own. But then he comes up empty, remembering how they were dropped earlier.

Sean smiles.

“Not so big now, are you, asshole?” he sneers. He lifts the knife over Andrew menacingly. Andrew stares into cold, cruel eyes, his own lip curling into a snarl in return. 

Then an orange converse sneaker slams into Sean’s cheek. 

_What?_

Sean stumbles back, hand lifting to his cheek in shock. 

Neil looks over at him in disgust. “Fucking hell. What are you, blind? There are bloody garden gnomes bigger than him.” 

Andrew glares at Neil, though it takes him a moment to find his tongue. "You have only three inches on me." 

"And they say every inch counts, mate," Neil winks in return. 

Andrew opens his mouth before closing it again. 

There's murder in Sean's eyes as he gapes at the redhead. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, so you’re an idiot too, are you? I’m the one who just planted my foot in your face, remember? Should take that twee knitting needle away before you hurt yourself. Tell me, is that thing even sharp?”

Sean fumes. “You fucking bastard. I’m gonna rip your face off, you-”

“Christ. You don’t bloody shut up, do you? Here, let me help.”

Stupidly, Sean opens his mouth again, and Andrew watches as Neil drives his fist into the guy’s face. He can hear the exact moment his nose breaks, blood splattering over Neil’s shirt and face as a result. Neil doesn’t seem fazed by it, though. 

In contrast, Sean’s head snaps back as he howls in pain. 

“Daft wanker. Just go on. Piss off.” 

Crying, Sean scrambles away from them without a second thought.

Neil watches him for a moment, his face expressionless. Then he turns to Andrew. His mouth smirks as he looks down at him. “Enjoying the view?” 

Andrew chokes. 

The intensity of Neil’s gaze is hypnotizing. It’s only been a week, and somehow Andrew has lost his immunity against it, those eyes capturing and mesmerizing him as Neil grants Andrew his full attention. 

Doing his best to ignore this, Andrew focuses on opening his mouth to reply. He’s unsure if he’s about to tell Neil off or agree when Neil drops down into his space. “Found some things that I believe are yours.”

He opens his hands to reveal Andrew’s knives. Andrew takes them wordlessly, shoving them back into the sheaths in his armbands. 

He opens his mouth again to say something- Jesus, anything at this point instead of just sitting there like an idiot- when Neil lifts his hand and hovers it next to Andrew’s cheek. 

Andrew freezes. Neil waits. 

Then, Andrew gives him the tiniest of nods, and Neil instantly caresses his face with his palm. “Are you okay, love?” he murmurs in his perfect British accent. 

Andrew is stunned. 

As in can’t move, can’t breathe because of how tenderly Neil is holding him. How his blue eyes stare into Andrew’s with such concern, while blood drips down the back of his hand and his face. 

An overwhelming wave of emotion catches in his throat.

Andrew swallows, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Neil’s face. The blurry outlines of bodies still struggle all around them. There’s the sharp smell of copper from blood spilled, the sound of grunting and cursing echoing in the small backyard, and what suspiciously looks like Carlos flying through the air behind Neil’s head. But Andrew can’t find it in himself to care because Neil is finally in front of him, looking right at him. 

Neil strokes his cheek once with his thumb, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Then the spell is broken as sirens fill the air.

“It’s the police!”

“Shit, get outta here!”

“Run, fuck, go!”

In a flash, Neil is gone. Just one second, and he vanishes right before Andrew’s eyes, like a wisp of smoke. And suddenly, Andrew is back in the middle of the Baltimore riot. Where people were running, pushing, and shoving as red and blue lights flashed all around them. Where Neil was gone in an instant, and Andrew could do nothing about it. 

It panics him. He can’t let it happen again.

He stands up and immediately yells, “Neil!”

Kevin rushes into view and shoves at Andrew’s shoulders. “Come on, Andrew, we have to go!”

“Get your hands off me!” Andrew snaps, pushing Kevin off. He comes right back, like a magnet. “Neil! NEIL! I’m not leaving him, let go of me-”

“Josten’s probably half a state over already with the way he runs. You don’t have to worry about him, Andrew. Come on, let’s go-” Aaron says behind him, grabbing onto Andrew as well.

There are too many hands touching him. He hates it, hates the way it makes his skin crawl. He struggles violently against them, only barely recognizing Nicky’s grunting when he adds himself to the mix. 

Andrew is not leaving Neil here. He is not abandoning Neil – not again. He will not let him disappear, never to be seen again, picked up by the cops or the FBI or the mafia to be destroyed and left for dead. He won’t let it happen. He won’t, he won’t-

Wait, there he is.

Neil is leaning against the wall of a neighboring house, hand clutching his head, when two guys approach him. There’s an urgent look on their faces, and the shorter one keeps glancing anxiously over his shoulder, his brown hands fluttering around him. They’re speaking to Neil now, and he watches as the taller guy puts an arm around Neil’s waist, leaning Neil’s body weight against him and wrapping Neil’s arm around his shoulders. 

They look around at the people running away from the house one last time before they take off. In the opposite direction. With Neil in tow. 

“NEIL!” Andrew yells, and he watches both guys turn around and look at him. 

His efforts double, straining against the hands holding him back.

Who the fuck are they? What the hell are they doing with Neil? What are they _going to do_ to him? He can’t let this happen. He has to get to him, has to get away, has to get to Neil before-

“FUCK! Boyd!”

“Oh, gladly.”

And with a flash of pain, everything goes dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monsters: *struggling to hold onto the wild beast that is Andrew* Crap, Matt, can you help us-  
> Matt: SAY NO MORE. MY TIME HAS COME. *knocks Andrew out*  
> Monsters:…yeah ok that works too
> 
> Yeah, that's right, folks! We've got two chapters covering the same night! (b/c so much happens that I had to split it in half!) ((Neil, seriously babe, you missed SO MUCH))
> 
> Me: You need to say mean things about them b/c Plot, Angst, Tension, Character Growth, etc.  
> Also Me: ...but I don't WANT to say mean things about Andreil!! 😭😰
> 
> To my British peeps....welp, I did some hw, and hopefully, everything I used makes sense!
> 
> Y'all were so lovely and kind with your comments last chapter! Thank you so much!! And thank you so much for reading, as always! Hope the party lived up to everyone's expectations! 😁
> 
> Next Time:  
> “Unless it’s Neil, gift-wrapped and delivered to our doorstep, I’m not sure it’s going to matter,” Kevin grumbles. “Might as well start selecting flowers for my casket.” 
> 
> Aaron snorts. “Once Andrew’s done with you? Who says there’ll be enough left over for a casket?”
> 
> Kevin whimpers.
> 
> They continue to chat, but their voices fade away as the realization that Neil isn’t with them sinks into Andrew’s brain. 
> 
> He’s missing. Again. 
> 
> Andrew’s failed him once more.
> 
> And suddenly, it all comes crashing down on him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II of Andrew and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night.
> 
> (AKA the one where Andrew bonds with someone unexpected)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: mild/vague reference to rape/non-consent and self-harm.
> 
> (Psst....purposeful spelling and grammar errors in this one guys....you'll know why when you get there 😉)

Andrew wakes with a start. It takes him a moment to figure out his surroundings. 

Soft sheets. Wooden planks. White and orange. A small letter “n” carved into the board above his head.

He’s in Neil’s cot back in their dorm room. 

He jerks upright, wincing as his head immediately begins to pound. He cradles it in his hands as voices trickle in from outside the room. 

“-Jesus, why the fuck does he even bother carrying that thing if he never charges it? I could give him a rock, and it would be just as useful!” Kevin snaps. “Did Boyd answer yet?”

“Says he hasn’t seen him,” Aaron replies, aggravated. “Made it as far as South Bank before he had to duck into one of the exchange student dorms for the night. They’re locking down campus.”

“Fuck.” Kevin is clearly pacing. Andrew can hear his steps wearing down the carpet in the hall as he travels from the living room to the bedroom door and back. “Fuck, Andrew is gonna kill me. He’s right; we should have cut him off, should have stopped him from drinking so much-”

“It’s not your fault that Neil chose to get drunk tonight, Day.” Even without seeing him, Andrew knows Aaron just rolled his eyes. “And besides, it’s not like we knew all this shit was going to go down ahead of time.” 

Kevin grunts. “Do you think maybe he reached out to Wymack?”

“No offense, Kev, but I’m pretty sure Coach would be one of Neil’s last choices. And that’s when he’s sober.”

“Fuck,” Kevin says again. Then the footsteps stop. “Nicky, what the hell? Could you get off your phone for five damn seconds? We’re trying to figure out a way to stop your cousin from going on a murder spree when he wakes up!”

“Mmm, first off, I’m pretty sure I’d pay money to see you try and stop Andrew, Kev. And second, just give me another minute. I think I’m on to something.”

“Unless it’s Neil, gift-wrapped and delivered to our doorstep, I’m not sure it’s going to matter,” Kevin grumbles. “Might as well start selecting flowers for my casket.” 

Aaron snorts. “Once Andrew’s done with you? Who says there’ll be enough left over for a casket?”

Kevin whimpers.

They continue to chat, but their voices fade away as the realization that Neil isn’t with them sinks into Andrew’s brain. 

He’s missing. Again. 

Andrew’s failed him once more.

And suddenly, it all comes crashing down on him. 

Andrew whips himself off the bed, grabs a lamp, and smashes it against a wall. He runs over to the dresser, grabs a corner, and heaves, throwing it to the floor. He tears clothes off their hangers in the closet. He takes the cot and tosses it off the frame, ripping off the sheets and whipping out his knife to rip open the pillows, causing feathers to fly everywhere.

The destruction soothes something deep inside him. It burns, alive and vicious, as he smashes, pulverizes, and tears the room apart. He wants to rage, wants to scream out loud, wants to externalize this pain that won’t go away, won’t stop, that never leaves him alone-

The bedroom door whips open. 

“Andrew, what the fuck-” Aaron starts, only to snap his mouth shut.

Kevin stares over Aaron’s head and is unable to form words, he’s so shocked. 

“Oh my god,” Nicky’s mouth drops open as he peeks at the wreckage. 

Aaron takes a few steps into the bedroom slowly. “Andrew. You need to stop.”

Andrew whips around, waving the blade in his brother’s face as he says, “No, you need to leave me the fuck alone!”

Aaron stares down at the knife, then back up into Andrew’s face. He waits. 

With a snarl, Andrew sheathes it before he makes a dismissive motion with his hand. “Get out of my way. I’m going to find him.”

Aaron shakes his head. “Andrew, it’s the middle of the night. You’re not going anywhere.”

“I said, get out of my way,” Andrew repeats, his tone low and dangerous. “I’m going to find Neil.” 

Aaron doesn’t move. 

Andrew shoves him to the side, but Kevin blocks the doorway, a pale but determined look on his face. Andrew sneers, rolling his head to the side to crack his neck. He flexes his fingers. Kevin swallows.

“Andrew, just fucking think for a second!” Aaron snaps as he regains his balance. “It’s three am. The area is crawling with police and campus security right now. You would be picked up in a second. And knowing you, you’d resist arrest, they’d book you for concealing a weapon, and next thing you know, you’re back in front of a judge, pleading against needing more drugs - or worse, they lock you up in a jail cell and throw away the damn key! Which would mean no college, no Exy, no Foxes- and _no Neil!_ ”

Andrew stares at him.

Aaron’s chest is heaving from how fast and furious he’s talking, spitting out words as if he’s trying to squeeze them in before the last seconds of an invisible countdown end. 

And perhaps he is because that’s about how long Andrew lasts before his temper snaps. “I don’t give a shit. I am not leaving Neil out there where he could be injured, or kidnapped, or-”, and he hates it because he hears his voice tremble for a moment, “-whatever those two fuckwads are doing to him at the moment. I won’t let- I can’t-” And then his throat closes, words becoming choked because he can’t even think about something happening to Neil in that way. About failing him so badly. About letting someone else destroy him the way Andrew’s been annihilated again and again. 

His hands ball into fists as he tries to stop their shaking.

When he has control over his breathing once more, he looks up to find Aaron blinking at him as if he’s seeing Andrew for the very first time. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really don’t give a shit about yourself.” He shakes his head slowly, face paling. “You would let it all happen again just because of him. You’d lose everything just to make sure Neil’s all right.” 

Usually, Andrew would scoff at how his brother is staring at him as if he’s just unlocked the secrets to the universe. But with Neil gone, Andrew can’t be bothered to care about something Aaron missed, yet again. 

He grits his teeth. Okay, fine. Or at least, he doesn’t _want_ to be bothered by it. 

But despite his wishes, he feels rage flare hot and bright because how many times does he have to say it before his brother understands? 

So instead, he purposefully walks over to his twin until he’s inches away from him, staring him dead in the eye. Aaron winces and tries to turn away, but Andrew grabs his chin, holding it firm. Then Andrew repeats the words slowly so that his brother can’t avoid them. “I’m going to find him.”

But Aaron doesn’t back down. “Andrew, you have no idea where to even start! Boyd’s already been at it for an hour and found nothing. It’d take a fucking miracle at this point to figure out where he is right now-”

“I’ve got it!” Nicky knocks Kevin aside as he runs into the room, holding his phone aloft like it’s the Olympic torch. “I found him!”

Everyone freezes. Andrew whips his head towards Nicky.

His cousin is grinning at him, and for once, Andrew is grateful that Nicky is a dramatic, annoying social butterfly with the ability to make friends wherever he goes.

“Where?” he snaps at his cousin, releasing Aaron without a second glance.

“He’s over at Hurst – that’s Garrett and Justin’s dorm. They got him back safe.”

“Who the hell are Garrett and Justin?” Kevin asks.

Nicky winces. “Oh, well, do you guys remember, Jim? That guy from my improv class who came with me to the banquet two years ago? Well, Jim knows this girl Mandy, who throws the most amazing speakeasy-themed cocktail parties - her specialty is this drink called the Bee’s Knees, it’s made from gin and honey and is to die for, I really think you’d like it, Andrew-”

“Get to the point, Nicky,” Aaron snaps. 

“Oh! Ah, right,” Nicky flushes. “Anyway, Garrett and I met at one of her parties like a year ago, and Neil told me that apparently, Garrett was taking Spanish with him, and he and his boyfriend Justin were there tonight at the party, and Garrett recognized Neil and brought him home after he collapsed outside near them. So when I texted everyone I knew from the party, he responded and said Neil was with them.”

Andrew steps away from Aaron and heads towards the bedroom door. “I'm going.”

“Andrew, the same conditions still apply! Nothing’s changed,” Aaron remarks, his tone frustrated.

“How the hell do I know if they even really have him?” Andrew snaps.

“Oh, I asked for proof,” Nicky says again, proving for the second time that night that he might actually have a few brain cells floating around inside that head of his. He turns and shows his screen to Andrew, where a video is suddenly playing on it. 

Neil’s eyes are slits on the screen as he blinks sleepily. Though he’s staring at the camera, Andrew can tell he doesn’t really see it. His arms are wrapped around a yellow teddy bear. Though it’s crumpled, Andrew recognizes Neil’s shirt as the same one he was wearing earlier tonight. He watches as it rides up dangerously high on Neil’s stomach, flashing skin that Andrew knows Neil would rather left concealed. 

Anger flashes through Andrew, white-hot in response. 

Neil’s shoes are off, and his legs are tangled up in some peach-colored monstrosity of a blanket. 

“Andrew,” he whispers. 

Andrew freezes.

For a moment, it feels like Neil has reached through the screen, plunged his hand into Andrew’s chest, and wrapped his fingers around Andrew’s heart, squeezing tight. 

Neil sighs in the video. “Andrew,” he whispers again, but the sound is muffled as he snuggles the teddy bear tighter, face burrowing into the back of its head. “Andrew, Andrew…” he repeats, his voice finally fading as his eyes drift closed. Then sleep claims him. 

“Shut it off,” Andrew snaps. “And tell him to delete that shit right now.”

“What? But look at him, he’s so cute! Don’t you want to-”

“Nicky. Tell him to delete it. Now.”

“Fine,” Nicky grumbles, thumbs flying as he types. 

“So,” Aaron says. “There you have it. He’s fine.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Now you can stay.” 

“No, now I know exactly where he is,” Andrew counters. “Which makes it infinitely easier to go get him.”

Aaron tugs at his hair and makes a frustrated groan. “Jesus fucking- okay, okay. Let’s think this through. Even if you somehow managed to make it all the way past the police and security teams, then you’d have to solve how to get into an armed dorm building without anyone noticing. Garett and Justin are probably exhausted at this point. So if we don't get their room number from them before they pass out, then you’d also have to figure out which room is Garrett and Justin’s and break into that too. Neil is passed out. What are you going to do? Haul his limp, unconscious body all the way back across campus? Without getting caught, _again_? It’s impossible, Andrew!”

Andrew’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t reply. Because technically, Aaron’s right. 

Neil’s safe. He knows he is. He’s just watched proof of it with his own two eyes. 

But he’s still upset. Why? 

He turns towards Nicky. Though it feels like he’s cutting himself open, he rips the words from his throat. “Will they touch him?”

Nicky’s eyes whip up to meet Andrew’s. “What?”

Andrew’s teeth grind together, he’s clenching his jaw so tight. “Will they do anything to him?”

“Garrett and Justin? No way! They’re both great. And they’re ridiculously, head over heels in love with one another. Neil is safe.”

“Swear it.”

Nicky makes a garbled sound in the back of his throat as he slams himself up against the wall when Andrew comes at him. He stops a mere inch from his cousin's face. “Swear on your damn life that Neil won’t be harmed. Or so help me, Nicky, if anything happens to him, I will skin you alive.”

Nicky pales before nodding vigorously. “I…I swear it,” he says hoarsely, eyes wide and swallowing hard. 

Andrew stares at him for another moment before he nods. “And tell him to text you the moment Neil wakes up.”

Nicky rapidly nods his head.

Andrew gives him one last glare before turning away. He hears Nicky’s breath whoosh out of him in a sudden rush before he starts typing, footsteps leading him out of the room.

The rest of them stand there in silence for a moment.

The amount of adrenaline and emotion Andrew’s already dealt with tonight has him spinning. He feels prickly and off-balance. He’s got too much energy and nowhere to put it.

So Andrew twists and punches Kevin hard in the arm. 

“Ow! The fuck, Andrew?”

“You know why,” Andrew spits out. He wants to do more, but he doesn’t trust himself. Not unless he wants to add blood to the mess he’s made of their room already. Even now, the thought tempts him.

Kevin winces and takes a step back out of reach, as if he knows what Andrew is thinking.

“Christ, Andrew, it’s not his fault, and you know it. Stop being a bitch because your boyfriend got trashed before a police raid,” Aaron scolds him. 

Andrew flips him off. He’s getting fed up with Aaron being right tonight. 

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Come on, Day. Since Andrew’s trashed your room, you can sleep in Boyd’s bed.” He yawns as he walks through the door. “It’s too late to be dealing with this shit.”

Kevin follows him, rubbing his arm. “Technically, it’s too early.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kev.”

Andrew hears the suite door shut out in the living room. Silence descends on the dorm. 

He shoves a hand through his hair and tugs. He kicks at someone’s bag near his foot in frustration. Then he nearly jumps when he hears Nicky’s voice.

“Wow. Crazy night, huh?”

Christ, he’d forgotten his cousin was still there. 

“Go away, Nicky,” he snarls. He can’t deal with any of his cousin’s nonsense tonight. Not when Neil isn’t here.

Nicky tilts his head as he leans against the doorframe. He stares at Andrew in understanding. “It’s hard to be separated from someone you love.”

Andrew nearly chokes. “What the fuck-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nicky dismisses him before he can finish the sentence. “You’re gonna lie and say it’s nothing, and act like it doesn’t matter.” He raises both eyebrows as he looks pointedly around the destroyed dorm room. Then he kicks aside a dresser drawer before sitting down cross-legged on the cot Andrew dragged onto the floor. “I didn’t get it before, Andrew. But I get it now. And I’m not leaving.” 

_Before_. He says it nonchalantly, like they’re just talking about Neil. But Andrew sees through him. He knows Nicky means before Palmetto, when they’d only just met. Before he understood what had happened to Andrew.

"Nicky," he says in warning.

"Andrew," his cousin replies. He doesn't move.

They stare each other down for a moment. Andrew is tempted to sneer at him because what the hell does Nicky think he knows? He doesn't need a fucking chaperone. He's pissed, not self-destructive.

But that gives him an idea.

Andrew turns so fast that Nicky jumps, but Andrew walks past him to slam the bedroom door shut. He locks it, then walks over to Kevin’s nightstand, ignoring Nicky’s bewildered look. He flings something at Nicky’s head, which he just barely manages to catch. 

It’s a shot glass. 

Nicky frowns down at it. “What?”

“Shot for shot, truth for truth.” Andrew whips out, striding over to sit across from Nicky with another shot glass and the vodka bottle he stashed under Neil's bed. This is already working out to be a shitty weekend: no Eden’s, no Columbia, no Neil. If he’s going to be stuck in this dorm room with his obnoxious cousin on top of it, then he’s at least going to drink, damn it. “Unless you can’t handle it.”

Nicky bristles. “Fine,” he snaps in returns. “Let’s do this.”

Andrew puts his shot glass down between them and motions for Nicky to do the same. He fills them. Immediately, he and Nicky throw them back. When Andrew puts his down, he starts. “You’ve always been scared of me.”

Nicky laughs, though it’s self-mocking. “Of course, I was scared of you. You wanted me to be. You did everything in your power to make sure of it when we first met.”

Andrew doesn’t deny this. “And now?”

“Will you stab me if I say no?”

He shrugs.

“Then yes. Often. Sometimes. Maybe. I think.”

Andrew scowls. 

“Look, it’s complicated, okay? It depends on the day.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. He motions towards the bottle.

Nicky grabs it and fills the two shot glasses again. They toss them back. Then he wipes his mouth and tells Andrew, “You like Exy.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re good at it. You like being good at it. You like that Neil and Kevin love how good you are at it. You’re just too stubborn to admit it out loud.”

“I don’t give a shit about Exy.”

“No, you don’t give a shit about living up to people’s expectations. Thus, the indifference. If everyone thinks you don’t care, then no one expects anything of you.” Nicky’s lips twitch. “But Neil’s the only one who knows different. He knows exactly what to say to get you to try harder. And the only reason you allow it is because he doesn’t abuse it.”

Andrew wrenches the bottle back and pours again. After it burns down his throat, he snarls, “You didn’t know what you were getting into when you took Aaron and me in.”

Nicky scoffs. “If you mean I didn’t realize what ungrateful, little shits you were going to be, then no. I guess I didn’t. But you never gave me a chance. From day one.”

“Trust is earned, not owed.”

Nicky chokes. “I left the person I loved, crossed an ocean, and moved into a shitty house in a shitty town with a shitty job just to be with you guys! Didn’t that say anything about me?”

“What it said was you were a strange man who was willing to drop everything to get two underage boys in a house, alone, under your complete control and indebted to you,” Andrew says flatly. 

Nicky stares at him, speechless for a moment. “Christ, I never-”

“I had to see what your intentions were. What you were like,” Andrew continues. “How far I could push you before you’d break. What would happen when you did.”

Nicky gapes, then his mouth snaps shut. “So have I earned it yet?” he asks sarcastically. “Your trust?”

“Depends on the day,” Andrew answers mockingly back. 

Nicky snatches the bottle and pours for them, missing a little and getting vodka on the rug. “You’re afraid of intimacy.”

Andrew scoffs. “I’ve told you before, Nicky, no matter how you ask the question, I’m not telling you how many blowjobs I’ve-”

“I didn’t say sex; I said intimacy.”

“Same difference,” Andrew shrugs. 

“No, it’s not. Physical intimacy is more than just sex. It includes things like cuddling or hugging or hand-holding,” Nicky rattles off. “It’s the kind of touch that Neil is starved for. The kind you were both robbed of.”

Andrew makes a warning noise, but Nicky plows on. “But even more than that, emotional intimacy shows that you care. That you’re interested in one another’s feelings. It shows affection for and affirmation of your partner.” He scowls at Andrew. “And you suck at it!” 

Andrew snorts. “How would you know?”

“Because you wouldn’t be having this fight with Neil right now otherwise,” Nicky says smugly.

Andrew decides to ignore him.

_Slosh. Pour. Shoot._

“You wish you were back in Germany with Erik.”

“Every damn day. You try being separated from Neil by an ocean for years, then you can criticize.”

“So you regret coming back?”

“Never. I don’t regret any of it. Especially the time with you and Aaron.”

“Liar.”

“Fine. I don’t regret _most_ of the time with you or Aaron. Both of you can be a little bitch sometimes.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Oh, shut up.”

_Dribble. Dispense. Drink._

“You went on that shopping trip with Allison to redo Neil’s wardrobe not because he needed it, but because you liked hanging out with her. And you think she has good taste.”

“The woman has only one redeemable feature, and I exploited it.”

“You guys were gone for eight hours, Andrew.”

“We had an argument over which color blue in the men’s sock department.”

“For eight hours?”

“It…took longer than expected. She favored French Navy; I wanted Prussian.”

“Right. Who won?”

“I did.”

“Of course.”

_Spill. Fill. Toss._

“You’re the one who stole Kevin’s gray sweater last March and told him he left it at Eden’s.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“…”

“Okay, fine, I did. How the hell did you know? It’s just so big and soft and comfortable and…ugh! You’re not gonna tell him, are you?”

“He thinks Neil took it.”

“Really?”

“Neil likes egging him on about it.”

“So…no?” 

“Not unless he asks.”

“I knew you were my favorite cousin.”

“Is that what you tell Aaron?”

“All the time.”

_Drip. Flow. Gulp._

“You can’t stand me. You hate spending time with me.”

“I can’t stand your lack of filter. It’s annoying. The rest of you I can tolerate just fine.”

Nicky gapes at him. “Bullshit! You hate me!”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “You know what? Fine. I hate you. Just like I hate Aaron. And Kevin. And the others. I hate them. I hate them all so much I can’t stand it.”

Nicky sways, staring at him for a moment. “What about- what about Neil then?”

“I especially hate Neil. Fucking hate him the most.”

Nicky’s eyes grow round. “Oh. Oooooohhhhhhhh.”

_Fumble. Pour. Swallow._

“You’re scared of people not liking you. You think…you have to act like-” Andrew waves his hand to encompass all of Nicky, “- _that_ to draw people in.”

Nicky frowns. “Like what?”

“Loud. Obnoxious. Pushy.”

“I am not!” Nicky shouts before clapping a hand over his mouth, his eyes popping wide. He scowls at Andrew. “Well, maybe thaz- that’s because I actually care what people think.”

“You shouldn’t give a fuck about what people think.”

“Like you and Neil?”

“Exactly.”

“But you care what Neil thinks?”

“…we were talking about you, remember?”

“Oh, right. My bad.”

_Trickle. Decant. Swig._

“You’re scared of how much Neil means to you,” Nicky gasps, wheezing from the last shot. “That he means more than any of the others did. That he’s your _everything_.”

“He means…he means nothing.”

“He thinks he, what does he think? Oh yeah, he thinks he doesn’t dessert you. Deserve you. Andrew. To my face. He said that to my face. ‘is bullshit.”

Andrew stares at Nicky, who keeps moving in front of him. He won’t stay still, goddamn it. 

Wait, are there two of him now?

God, his tolerance is for shit. Fucking Josten. He curses his past self for choosing dick all those times instead of keeping up on his alcohol. 

“Stupid. He’s stupid,” Andrew mumbles. “A pipe-dream. Hallucination. Isn’t real.”

“Whatdyamean?” Nicky slurs. “Seems real-real to me.”

“Can’t have him. He’ll go away. Eventually. Just like everyone does.”

Nicky yawns, pillowing his heads in his arms as he tells Andrew, “Then ask him to stay.”

“Did,” Andrew says petulantly. 

“Then tell him you mean it,” comes Nicky’s muttered reply. A few seconds later, he’s snoring.

Andrew’s head droops. He catches it falling to his chest, once or twice. So he leans back onto the floor to stop it from falling again. 

There that’s better. Now he’ll just rest his eyes for a moment and-

\---

_WWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!_

Oh, Jesus Christ, who the hell is using a blender this morning? 

Andrew’s eyes pop open as the grating noise starts again. He rolls over, glaring at the ceiling as he tries to figure out a way to kill Kevin without moving from this spot. 

He turns his head to the side and nearly jumps when he sees how close Nicky is curled up next to him. Andrew immediately punches him in the shoulder. 

“Ow! What the hell, Andrew, I- oof, gah-” Nicky cuts his own sentence off quickly, clapping a hand over his mouth. He springs up, whips open the bedroom door and races into the bathroom. A few seconds later, the sound of retching fills the dorm room. 

Satisfied, Andrew drags himself into a standing position. He only sways a bit before he steadies himself. Then he heads into the kitchen. 

Kevin stands there, one eyebrow raised while he sips his damn smoothie through a straw. 

Andrew hopes he chokes on it. 

The insufferable striker glances once towards the bathroom as more horrible noises erupt from it before turning back to Andrew. “Uh. Morning?”

Andrew grunts in return. He looks towards the coffee pot, remembers Neil isn’t there for the fiftieth time and scowls at its empty contents. So instead, he goes over to the kitchen sink, turns on the faucet, and greedily drinks from the tap.

Kevin clears his throat. 

Andrew narrows his eyes as he looks over at him. He doesn’t pause his drinking. 

Slowly, Kevin pushes something towards him on the countertop. It's a square box.

Andrew’s brow furrows.

Kevin gestures towards it, insistent.

Andrew turns off the faucet, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Slowly, he lifts the edge of the box, catching just the barest glimpse of its contents before letting it drop. He stares blankly at the striker. 

Kevin Day got them donuts. 

Andrew lifts the box lid again, sure that this is a prank. But the heavenly, sugar-filled concoctions are still there, waiting for him. It probably is a pity gesture, or an apology, or maybe even a bribe, but Andrew doesn’t care. He snatches a chocolate-iced, cream-filled one and shoves the entire thing in his mouth. 

Kevin winces. “That’s disgusting.”

Cheeks stuffed, Andrew only shrugs. He takes the entire box with him as he heads over to the couch. He’s eaten at least two more by the time his twin walks into the room. 

“Oh good, you’re up. Done having your temper tantrum yet?”

Andrew salutes him with his middle finger. Then he does a double-take as he gets a good look at Aaron. He swallows his last mouthful of jelly donut and asks, “Why do you look like shit?”

Aaron’s got one black eye, matching bruises on either side of his chin, and a bandage over the bridge of his swollen nose. He rolls his eyes before sarcastically answering, “Because you started a fucking team brawl last night, remember?”

Andrew frowns. Referring to Matt and Andrew as “the team” is a hell of a stretch. But as he looks at the bruises on his brother’s face, a flicker of recognition runs through his mind as he recalls Dom tackling one of the rugby players. Of Brian holding down another. Of Carlos soaring through the night air.

Andrew looks around at the others in the suite. Now that he’s looking for it, Kevin does have some scratches on his collarbone, similar bruises on his face, and a particularly nasty mark on the shin of his left leg. When Nicky walks out of the bathroom, he too has the ghosts of fingerprints climbing up his throat, a gash on his temple, and what looks like road rash on his elbow. All of their hands are bruised, split, and swollen – including Andrew’s.

Andrew blinks. How the hell had he missed that? 

When he turns back, Aaron gives him a wicked grin. “You should see how the rest of the team looks. We’re not half bad.”

“Speaking of,” Nicky pipes up, popping onto the couch next to Andrew, phone in hand. He takes one look inside the donut box before he pushes it away rapidly. “It looks like none of our teammates got hauled off to jail last night. Just those rugby assholes. Ha!”

Andrew rolls his eyes, grabbing a glazed donut from the box this time. He slaps Aaron’s right hand away when he reaches for it, but Aaron snatches it from him with his left. Andrew scowls as his twin smirks triumphantly.

“And, oh my god, there’s so many pictures and videos of Neil circulating! Holy crap. They’re amazing! I’m sending all of them to the girls.”

Andrew pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, air whistling through his nostrils as he sighs.

Then Nicky bolts upright on the couch. “Oh shit.”

Aaron frowns at him. “What?”

Nicky winces before he looks over at Andrew. “Garrett texted me. A while ago.”

Andrew rips the phone out of Nicky’s hand to look down at the text message confirming Neil was up. The timestamp shows 9:36 am. He looks over at the clock on the microwave. 

It’s now 11:09 am. 

_Fuck._

“I must have silenced it when I plugged it in last night,” Nicky admits. 

The fact that Andrew doesn’t immediately reach over and strangle his cousin shows extraordinary patience on his part, he thinks. Instead, Andrew looks back down at the phone, has two seconds to look at a new picture of Neil in their chat thread before he flings it out of his dorm window. 

“Hey!” Nicky squawks. He gapes open-mouthed at Andrew. “What the-”

“We’re going there. Now.” Andrew stands up from the couch and moves towards the dorm bedroom to get changed. “Find out their room number, Nicky.”

“And exactly how am I supposed to do that, Andrew? I need my _phone_ to ask him!” Nicky calls back, annoyed. 

Andrew stops. He turns, aims a look at Nicky, and says, “Then you better go find it.”

And he snaps the door shut. 

\---

“Where is he?” Andrew snaps as soon as someone opens the door. He bursts past the small, brown-skinned man into the suite.

“Um,” the guy asks, one eyebrow lifted and a half-smile on his lips. “Andrew, I take it?”

Andrew doesn’t bother responding. He looks around the empty living room before making his way into the bedroom. Another guy with a man bun sits on one of the beds in there. He grins at him as soon as he enters. “Armbands,” he nods like it’s some kind of code word.

Andrew ignores him.

“Oh my god, Andrew! You can’t just burst into people’s rooms like you own the place! So sorry, Garrett, this is my cousin, Andrew. We’re unfortunately related. As you can see, he’s certifiably insane, and I hold no responsibility for his actions whatsoever.”

“You’re legally his guardian, Nicky,” Kevin argues, following them both into the living room and looking around. 

“Um, _was_ his legal guardian. Now he’s an adult, so he technically no longer needs my brilliant supervision and guidance.”

“There are so many things wrong with that sentence.”

Andrew ignores them as he searches the empty suite bathroom. He pulls back the shower curtain and stares, fuming at the empty space. 

Neil isn’t there. 

“He’s not here!” Garrett calls out two seconds later. 

Andrew grits his teeth. 

He pops his head back around the door in time to see Garrett shrug. “We tried to get him to stay, but he insisted on going.”

“Where?” Andrew demands. 

Garrett shakes his head. “He didn’t say.”

“When?”

“Uh, maybe an hour ago?”

Andrew glares at him for another few seconds before he turns his head to the side and stares out the window. Then he walks out without a second glance.

“Andrew! Ugh, again, so sorry. If he comes back, will you let us know?”

“No worries! Happy to.”

“Thanks!”

Kevin and Nicky race to catch up to Andrew, who’s already three flights down the dorm staircase, surprisingly. 

“Andrew, wait!” Nicky calls as he huffs behind him. 

Andrew stops in the lobby to let them catch up.

“I’m sorry- _gasp_ \- I’m sorry we didn’t catch him,” Nicky wheezes. “But you can always talk to him tonight, right? He’s bound to come home at some point.”

Andrew says nothing.

Kevin looks over at Nicky scornfully. “If you’re winded from only a few flights of stairs, Hemmick, then we’re definitely adding wind sprints into your fitness routine next session.”

Nicky glares at him. “And just for that, you’re not invited to our coffee date. Come on, Andrew.”

But not even the outraged look on Kevin’s face is enough to amuse Andrew as he follows Nicky out of the dorm building. 

\---

They make their way over to the coffee shop in silence, the tension and adrenaline slowly draining away from Andrew with each step. Instead, a strange numbness begins to take its place, something that makes him feel vacant and hollow. When they reach the counter, he watches, detached, as Nicky orders and pays for them. Then he goes and mindlessly waits by the other end of the counter to get their drinks as he thinks.

Here are the facts:

  1. Neil left an hour ago from Garrett’s dorm.
  2. It takes less than ten minutes to reach Fox Tower across campus.
  3. He would still be in last night’s clothes. He’d want to change at the very least, probably take a shower, regroup. 
  4. Which means there was somewhere else he went to do those things. Somewhere Andrew wasn’t.
  5. And he still hasn’t answered any of Andrew’s texts or calls.
  6. Which really means…he’s still avoiding Andrew.



Andrew rubs a hand tiredly over his eyes. 

Is this it? Is Neil trying to say something? Is this a sign that he’s done? With Andrew and…all of it? 

But then what was that moment last night? That lingering touch, and the stupid pet name? Is it only because he was out-of-his-mind wasted? And fine, Andrew knows that word is just another way Brits address people sometimes, something Neil probably didn’t think twice about using, but what the hell is Andrew supposed to do with any of this? Why was Neil calling his name in that video?

What does Neil want?

_I threw my hands in the air, said, "Show me something"  
He said, "If you dare, come a little closer"_

A female voice croons over the tinny coffee shop speakers, and Andrew glares up at it, recognizing this particular tune. He’s so lost in his thoughts that it takes him a minute to realize that someone is calling his name.

A second later, someone grabs his hand. 

Andrew rips it away, and the person who grabbed him lets go immediately. Andrew stumbles back, chest heaving. Revulsion slicks over his skin like oil. He feels dirty and violated. 

Derek stares at him in shock. “Sorry, Andrew, I’m so sorry, I called your name, but you didn’t move, so I thought - seriously, I’m so sorry-”

Andrew internally winces, the word grating on his ears each time Derek utters it. His hand is still outstretched, and Andrew takes another step back away from it.

Derek swallows. “I didn’t mean…I just…” He withdraws it and holds up two frozen frappes. “Your coffee is ready,” he says quietly. 

Andrew is still trying to catch his breath, his eyes wide as he stares at him. 

“I’m really sorry,” Derek says again, unwittingly digging the hole deeper. “Was that…are you-”

Andrew shakes his head, his mind reeling. “No, it’s not-”

Wait. Why the fuck is he trying to explain this?

He stops and stares at Derek, eyes narrowing. 

“Oh, okay,” Derek laughs nervously. The air turns awkward. He’s still holding out the two frappes. 

_Round and around and around and around we go  
Oh, now tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know_

Andrew glares at his fingers wrapped around the drinks. See, this is what makes Neil so special. He knows when and how close he can get to Andrew. He knows never to surprise him. And he never ever takes what isn't given- there’s always a pause, always an ask, always a double check before reaching out.

Andrew looks up at the eagerness in Derek’s eyes, the willingness to please. 

Could someone else be just as observant if he told them the rules? 

_Maybe_ , Andrew thinks. But he doesn’t really want to try. 

He stares at Derek and makes a downward motion with his hand. Instantly, Derek understands and puts the cups on the counter. Andrew makes a shooing motion, and Derek takes a couple of steps back. Once Andrew is satisfied with the distance, he snatches the plastic cups, straws, and napkins Derek left on the counter and walks away without a second glance. 

“Um…are you okay?” Nicky asks as soon as Andrew sits down. 

Andrew’s eyes whip up to meet his cousin’s. Nicky’s gaze flicks down to Andrew’s hand. Ah, so he’d noticed that exchange. 

Andrew grunts, shrugging it off. 

“Let me guess. You’re ‘fine,’ am I right? Okay, Neil,” Nicky laughs. Then his face drops. 

Andrew says nothing, putting both hands around his cup and staring at it.

Nicky rips open their straws and shoves them in each of their lids, then grabs one of the napkins to catch the condensation on his. He pauses mid-air, though, furrowing his brow as he stares at it. Then he puts it back on the table and slowly pushes the napkin towards Andrew.

“Ah, I think this is yours,” he says.

Andrew glances down at it. Written in a corner is a phone number and a name: _Derek_. 

Andrew sighs. He looks up at his cousin dully and waits for him to say something. To smugly rub it in or accuse him of cheating again. He knows Nicky won’t be able to resist.

But Nicky presses his lips together in a thin line and just gives him a small half-smile. “Nice to be wanted, right?”

Andrew looks blankly at him. Then he casts his gaze off to the side. 

_Well, funny you're the broken one  
But I'm the only one who needed saving_

_'Cause when you never see the light  
It's hard to know which one of us is caving_

Nicky drums his fingers on the table for a second. Then he clears his throat. “You know, I tried to break up with Erik. Back then. The first time I mean. Before I met you guys in Columbia.” 

Andrew turns back. 

“I thought…well, I thought it was what was best for him.”

Andrew snorts.

Nicky scowls at him. “Shut up, okay?” He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear as he continues. “As soon as I decided to come back, I knew it wouldn’t be fair to him. To ask this perfect man to wait for years for someone he would barely be able to see, hardly ever touch. I thought it was asking too much.” Nicky shakes his head. “So I started pulling away. I tried everything to get him to break up with me because I couldn’t do it myself. I was too much of a coward.” He pauses before a smile creeps up onto his face, and a bit of color blooms in his cheeks. “Erik was furious when he figured it out. Called me an _arsch mit oren_ and insisted we stay together. Said he’d wait for forever if need be.” 

Nicky laughs. “God, we were so young and foolish. It was all very romantic back then, you see. I thought we were like ‘star-crossed lovers,’ the whole Romeo and Juliet bit, destined to be together. But in reality, it’s hard work.” 

He takes his napkin and starts to shred the corner as he continues. “There are and have been so many easier, more available options for both of us. There are days that I struggle, that I get depressed. There are days where he’s quiet, and it seems like we have nothing to say. But the point is I choose him, over and over, Andrew. And he chooses me.” He takes a deep breath before looking straight into Andrew’s eyes. “But I also choose you.”

Andrew furrows his brow. 

“Last night…” Nicky starts, pausing before he continues determinedly, “…you said that one day Neil would go away. That everyone does eventually. And I was thinking- that includes Aaron and me, doesn’t it?”

Andrew says nothing. 

“You think Aaron and I are going to leave you after graduation and never talk to you again. That I’m going to go back to Erik in Germany, and Aaron’s going to go off to medical school with Katelyn, and that will be it. Am I right?”

Nicky’s tone is calm and even-keeled. Unlike Aaron, he doesn’t sound judgmental or angry about the accusation. He’s straightforward about it. Matter of fact.

Yet somehow, this quiet sincerity is worse. It has Andrew spiraling, his mind balking and stuttering as if he’s digging his heels into the ground but finding no purchase. Like he’s plummeting towards the bottom of a very steep hill and is unable to stop. Unable to look away from the crash and the pain that he knows is coming.

He leans back in the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. He glares at the table and steels himself for the inevitable. He’s heard this a thousand times before and survived. He can do it again.

“Andrew?”

It takes him a minute, but Andrew reluctantly drags his gaze back to his cousin. 

“God, the two of you,” Nicky shakes his head, his mouth twisted into a disbelieving grin. “Andrew, you know that’s Aaron’s worst fear, too, right? That you’re never going to talk to him again after you graduate? He thinks you’re going to take off with Neil and ignore him for the rest of eternity.” Nicky snorts. “Drama queen.”

Andrew’s breath catches in his chest.

No. No, his brother hates him. Can barely stand the sight of him at times. 

The thought of him missing Andrew? Ridiculous.

“Shut up,” Andrew snaps. “Don’t lie to me.”

“You know I wouldn’t lie about this,” Nicky says quietly. “Why do you think Katelyn’s been trying so hard lately?” He leans back in the booth and rolls his eyes. “Ever since he started looking at applications for med school, he won’t shut up about it. But you know, in his cranky, I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude kind of way. I think graduation is freaking him out, honestly.”

Andrew stares at him, but no good reason comes to mind why Nicky would be lying. Which is unsettling. Because if Nicky was lying, then it makes sense. Everything falls back into a shitty but comfortable territory that Andrew is familiar with, where he’s let down time and again. Especially by his brother. 

But if he’s not…

Andrew fiddles with his drink, sliding it back and forth on the table before he asks. “And you?”

Nicky laughs. “Screw both of you. You’re not getting rid of me so easily. It’s literally the only fight I have with Erik nowadays – figuring out which holidays we’ll be spending in the States. At the moment, we’re negotiating alternating Christmases. Which means you’re getting on a plane and coming to Germany every other year, asshole.”

Andrew feels something stupidly flip in his chest. He scowls at Nicky. “No. I hate flying.”

“You also hate Exy. Yet you still do it,” Nicky points out stubbornly. “If you can fly across the country for whatever pro team you sign up with, you can pop across the ocean to see me.” 

Andrew could pettily point out that it still hasn’t been decided whether he’s going pro, but Nicky just continues with, “And I expect weekly skype calls.”

Andrew snorts. “Hell no.” He pauses for a second. “Monthly.”

Nicky narrows his eyes. “Weekly calls, no video, and I get to text you whenever I want.”

“No calls, no texts, and I don’t change my number as soon as you move,” Andrew counters. 

“Andrew!” Nicky whines. 

Andrew stares at him. 

“Fine. Bi-weekly calls _with_ video and I text you only between the hours of 8-6 pm in your time zone.”

Andrew drums his fingers on the table. “10-5 pm. And I don’t have to answer.”

“Done!” Nicky smiles brilliantly and holds out his hand. 

Andrew looks at it a moment. Then he grabs Nicky’s hand and squeezes it. Nicky winces a little bit from the pressure, but his smile doesn’t falter. 

“Right then. Ready?” He asks, sucking out the last bit of his latte obnoxiously through the straw. “I’ve gotta get back and help Aaron study for his STD and Venereal diseases exam.” He grins wolfishly. “I have a bet going with him on how awkward we can make Matt feel before he leaves the room.” 

Andrew rolls his eyes. 

They both get up and head towards the trash can. Nicky throws his drink out first and heads towards the door. Andrew throws his out too before staring down at the napkin in his hand. At the number still scrawled on it. 

Nicky holds the door open and watches him. He doesn’t say anything, and Andrew knows he’s leaving it up to him to make the decision. 

_Not really sure how to feel about it  
Something in the way you move_

He stares down at the small, square scrap of white paper. At the choice it represents. 

He needs to decide whether this is worth fighting for. Whether Neil, and what they have, is worth fighting for.

_Makes me feel like I can't live without you  
It takes me all the way_

Andrew takes one last look at the number on the napkin. Then he tosses it in the trash before he steps outside, the last notes of the song fading as the door closes. 

_I want you to stay_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I put in some redeeming moments for my boy Nicky, in this one? Hells yeah I did. 
> 
> Did I shamelessly plug the lyrics of the song this fic is titled after? Also true.
> 
> Did I respond to all of the amazing, wonderful comments that y'all left me? ...Not yet. Damn it. (SO sorry everyone- I will be responding! I just haven't got through all of them yet! But thank you SO MUCH!!) 
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always! Y'all are the best!
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> Wymack looks out across the sea of colorful faces on his team and just sighs. There are bumps, bruises, bandages, scratches, and cuts on all of them. Not a single team member seems to have escaped unscathed.
> 
> “Fun weekend?” he asks.
> 
> “Well-” Dom starts. 
> 
> “That was a rhetorical question,” Wymack snaps. “Whatever stunt you idiots pulled, I don’t want to hear about it.” 
> 
> “Okay, but-” Dom tries again.
> 
> “Unless you’re about to tell me someone’s going to knock on my door later for whatever stupid thing you did, keep your mouth shut, Pisano,” Wymack cuts him off. He turns a beady eye on the rest of them. “All I’m gonna say is that you’re all morons, and I expected better.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew suffers through another Exy practice. (But not the one you're thinking of...😉)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: Vulgar language, homophobic slurs, and Jack being a dick, like usual.
> 
> Sorry this is so late guys!! Today was insane...but enjoy!

Wymack looks out across the sea of colorful faces on his team and just sighs. There are bumps, bruises, bandages, scratches, and cuts on all of them. Not a single team member seems to have escaped unscathed.

“Fun weekend?” he asks.

“Well-” Dom starts. 

“That was a rhetorical question,” Wymack snaps. “Whatever stunt you idiots pulled, I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Okay, but-” Dom tries again.

“Unless you’re about to tell me someone’s gonna be knocking on my door later for whatever stupid thing you did, keep your mouth shut, Pisano,” Wymack cuts him off. He turns a beady eye on the rest of them. “All I’m gonna say is that you’re all morons, and I expected better.”

“Really?” Matt asks, disbelieving. “After all this time? It’s like you don’t even know us, Coach.” He grins, causing his split lip to pull a little before he turns and winks at Andrew.

Andrew ignores him.

“Stop dragging me into this shit, and maybe I can finally disown you altogether, Boyd," Wymack snorts. "They don't pay me enough to deal with you assholes.”

This is true but irrelevant. Andrew can hear the small, smug note of pride betrayed in Wymack’s tone, though he’s trying valiantly to hide it behind his bark. He glares at them all now. “Animals, the lot of you. And I’d better not hear a single one of you complaining during practice. We clear?”

“Yes, Coach!” the team answers.

“Christ,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his forehead. 

“Uh, Coach?” One of their new strikers, Holly, pipes up. “Where’s Cap?” 

The others murmur in agreement at the odd absence of their leader. Of course, Andrew had noticed immediately, but he kept coming up with excuses in his head, reasons for why Neil might be late. The list was growing more unlikely as time passed, but most of the ones he’d come up with were still in the realm of possibility - including kidnapping, life-threatening injuries, and skipping town altogether. 

He catches his knee bouncing again and purposefully stills it. The gnawing need to see Neil is close to drowning him. He hasn’t seen him since that last glimpse in the backyard, with deep red and bright blue lights flashing across their faces, the distance between them growing larger and larger. It's the longest they've been apart, without any kind of contact, since Baltimore - and it's slowly driving Andrew insane.

He wants to feel Neil’s pulse beneath his fingertips, wants to ensure those colors have washed out of his hair. Wants to watch those eyes flicker and snag on his, and hear the clever sting of his latest tongue lashing. He wants to dig into deep auburn curls, shiny raised scars, and taut, lean legs. 

It's a feeling that catches in his throat and lingers, an itch that he just can't scratch. It burns and burns, and nothing he does seems to quell it. 

He’d resolved to simply walk out of practice if Neil didn’t show up by the time Wymack started, but now he’s glad he stuck around. Because he watches Wymack’s face shut down with the question, and it piques his interest.

“Sick,” Coach answers shortly. But his mouth twists as if even he can’t stand the taste of the lie as it sits on his tongue. 

Andrew can commiserate. He knows that flavor intimately. Or at least he should, with how many of Josten’s lies he’s had to swallow before. 

“Sick,” Aaron repeats. He’s also staring shrewdly at Wymack’s face. 

Their coach lifts a brow at him. “Got a problem with that, Minyard?”

Aaron gives a single derogatory snort, his eyes rolling. 

“Sick?” Matt parrots, a worried look on his face. “Like what kind of sick?”

“Oh my god, Neil is sick?” Nicky exclaims, finally clueing into the conversation. “Maybe I should make him some of my grandmother’s famous chicken noodle soup-”

“NO!” is the single, unanimous shout from everyone. 

“Uh, rude,” Nicky sniffs.

Aaron scoffs back at him. “For fuck’s sake, Nicky- the last time you made that, you gave the entire team food poisoning for a week, remember?”

Nicky pauses, mouth dropping open as his eyes light up with recognition. He holds up a finger. “Look, that was one time-”

“Dude, I think you may have ruined chicken noodle soup for me, for like, life,” Rob moans, rubbing his stomach sympathetically. “Like, I’m literally getting nauseous thinking about it right now.”

“Oh, that reminds me- remember how Neil started that game?” Matt grins. “ _How long can Kevin go without barfing_? And he’d say like the grossest shit to make Kevin nauseous, and then they’d both end up blowing chunks because he made himself sick too?”

Holly’s face scrunches up. “Oh god, that’s disgusting.”

“And completely unnecessary,” adds Kevin furiously. “Asshole.”

“Oh please,” Matt dismisses him. “You weren’t nearly as bad as the rest of us.” 

“Probably because he drank, like, a quarter bottle of vodka before that,” Rob shakes his head. “With the amount of alcohol in his system, it probably killed most of the bacteria. Along with a layer of his stomach lining.”

“Really?” Brian turns and gives Kevin a shit-eating grin. “And here I thought it was because he dumped most of his bowl into that plant.”

Jess sucks in a breath and turns an accusatory finger on Kevin. “ _You’re_ the one who killed Persephone?”

“Who the hell is Persephone?” Kevin scowls. 

“My Pothos plant!”

“Oh,” Kevin returns sheepishly.

“Right, as enlightening as all this is,” Wymack drawls, “ _someone_ on this team must actually want to practice.”

“Is that a question or a statement?” Brian replies cheekily until Jess slaps a hand over his mouth. His face turns bright red as she ignores it.

“But wait, Coach - Neil’s okay, right?” she asks.

“He’s fine,” Wymack returns and watches half of his team pale in color. “Although looking at the rest of you, I should probably go check and make sure.” He flicks a glance over at Andrew for confirmation, who says nothing. 

“Yes! We should all go,” Nicky pipes up.

“Great idea,” Matt agrees. 

“Well, maybe just to make sure he’s okay,” Brian shrugs. 

“Right,” Jess drawls sarcastically. She lifts a dark, bemused eyebrow at him.

“No,” says Andrew. 

“No?” Nicky repeats. 

Matt turns sad, puppy dog eyes on him.

“No one gives a shit,” Aaron snarks. 

“Uh, beg to differ,” Matt turns to him and frowns. 

“Aren’t you the one who wants to be a doctor?” Nicky reminds Aaron. “‘Compassion for your fellow man’ and all that?”

“I said I wanted to save lives. No one said I had to be nice about it.” 

“Are we actually going to play Exy today? Or are we just going to sit here and jabber on about Neil?” Kevin snaps. 

“Are those the only two options?” Nicky asks. “Because then I definitely vote for option two.”

“I second that!” Holly pipes up. 

“Enough!” Wymack barks. “You can all go stand vigil at Neil’s bed on your own time. Despite what you may think, we can and have made it through a practice without him. Now, if you’re all done fawning over your captain-” Jack mimes retching in the back, “-maybe we can actually play the sport the college pays you for, hm?”

“Speak for yourself,” Carlos grumbles. “I’m basically paying them to let me play at this point. My college debt is going to own me ‘til I die.”

A few teammates around him pat his shoulder in solidarity. 

Wymack gives one last, exasperated look towards the sky. Then he turns and pins his vice-captain with a glare. “Jess? Warm them up.”

“Yes, Coach!”

Finally, the team gets up and starts shuffling around the track. Technically, they’re already way behind, but, other than Kevin, no one seems to be really bothered by it. 

Andrew stands up and stares at the court doors. He could leave right now. He doesn’t give a shit about practice. He wants- no _needs_ \- to know where Neil is. Needs to see him breathing with his own two eyes. 

He takes two steps towards them before Wymack blocks his path. “Andrew.”

Andrew stops. He looks up at him. 

“Neil was the one to call and say he needs some time off directly, in case you were wondering,” Wymack says slowly, his tone firm but gentle. He puts a hand on the back of his head and scratches. “Just for a few days, but…it’s Neil. Asking for time off. From Exy. Jesus, I can’t even believe I’m using those words in the same sentence.”

Andrew says nothing. 

Wymack stares at him. “Something you wanna tell me? About what’s going on?”

It surprises Andrew for a moment that he even considers it. He could. He could tell him. Somehow, Andrew thinks Wymack might even get it. He could also lie and make up some bullshit excuse of where Neil is and why he needs to see him, and he knows Wymack would accept that as well, even if he didn’t believe him. 

But would it really help? Because the fact is, Neil called Wymack specifically to avoid being at practice. No, not to avoid practice- to avoid him, avoid seeing Andrew.

Neil doesn’t want to be found right now. 

Andrew feels a sudden weariness weigh down his bones like heavy snow. 

He takes one last look towards the court doors. Then he turns and says, “It’s nothing.”

Wymack stares at him. Andrew stares blankly back. 

Finally, Wymack nods and says, “Fine then. Get your ass on that track and catch up with your team.” Then he walks away.

For purely spiteful reasons, Andrew doesn’t. He waits until the team has lapped once, returning to where he’s standing before he adds himself lazily onto the end. It’s quickly clear to him that the topic of Neil hasn’t waned. Annoyance flares, but he grits his teeth and keeps his mouth shut as the Foxes twitter amongst themselves. 

“Nobody actually believed that ‘he’s sick’ shit, right? I mean, it’s Neil. Where the hell do you think he really is?”

“Uh, it’s Neil. So like, anything’s possible. Literally.”

“God, I really wanted to see what he looked like today. He was like a whole different person at that party!”

“Yeah, man, last I saw, he barely had a scratch on him and had taken down like seven guys. It was wild.”

“Dude is a fucking badass!”

“Did you hear his accent? Oh my god, I thought that was hot as hell.” 

Dom snorts. “Yeah, so did everyone else. Did you see him go off with those two guys at the end, though? Didn’t think Josten was that freaky, but damn-”

Andrew has him slammed against the wall before Dom can even finish his sentence, a knife against his throat. 

For a moment, the team is frozen. Then they swing into action. 

Matt draws closer to Andrew’s other side so that he’s in his view, his hands up as if he’s ready to intervene at any moment. He says Andrew’s name once, low, like a warning. Nicky flutters slightly behind Matt’s side, groaning and muttering at Andrew placatingly in German. 

Kevin has also drawn closer to Andrew’s other side, but he’s put an arm out to stop some of the underclassmen. His face is drawn and serious as he watches Andrew. Aaron stands next to Kevin, but he neither lifts a hand to help nor holds anyone back. He just watches, his expression bored and apathetic.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dom shouts, throwing his own hands up. “Jesus, what the hell, man?”

“You want to keep your tongue? Then I suggest you shut the fuck up about Neil,” Andrew snarls. 

Surprise washes over Dom’s face. “But…I…what? I mean…why the fuck do you care? You thrashed him at practice the other day, dude. Totaled him. And then at that party, we all saw you hitting on that other guy-”

“No, he wasn’t,” Nicky cuts him off, piping in before Andrew can say anything. “He wasn’t hitting on that asshole.”

“He wasn’t?” Carlos frowns. He turns and looks warily at Andrew. “You weren’t?”

Kevin hisses a warning, but Nicky continues, unperturbed. “He told him to fuck off because the guy was talking shit about Neil.”

Andrew blinks. He hadn’t realized Nicky had been close enough to hear what he said. 

Dom’s brow furrows for a moment before his eyes widen. “Ohhhh.” He nods, then shifts uncomfortably, as if he forgot he had a blade pressed against his throat for a second. “Ya know, that makes a lot more sense why that asswipe started that fight then.”

Rob groans and drags a hand over his face. 

“Wait, you’re telling me that fight was because the faggot got all huffy about someone else wanting Josten’s ass?” Jack’s voice cuts in viciously. “Fucking perverts. Jesus Christ, I would never have gotten involved if I’d known it was about that!”

“No one asked you to,” Brian scoffs. He sends Jack a viciously sweet smile. “And as I recall, you weren’t much help anyway since you kept getting your ass kicked.”

Matt swears under his breath. “Now, wait a second-”

“Say that again, you fucking pussy, I’ll beat your ass right here, right now-” Jack snaps back. 

“Come on, guys, just hold up. This really isn’t helping anyone,” Nicky also tries to intervene, holding his hands up between them. His right hand brushes a little too close to Jack, though, and Jack immediately pushes him roughly, causing Nicky to trip backward and land on his ass. 

“Get the fuck away from me, you gay fucking fairy!”

An ear-splitting noise of something smashing against the wall makes them all jump. When the group looks over, Aaron’s hands are white where they grip his racquet, but the look on his face says he’s ready to eviscerate someone.

No, not someone. Jack. 

“Enough,” Aaron hisses.

He walks forward until he’s standing in front of his cousin, making Jack back up a step. He puts the butt of his racket down on the ground in front of him and leans both arms on it casually.

Jack swallows visibly as his eyes dart down to where Aaron’s fingers are curled into the net before popping back up to Aaron’s face.

Andrew just barely manages to keep his own face blank, the unfamiliar emotion of surprise sneaking down his spine like a cold glass of water. He releases Dom abruptly, but he doesn’t sheath his knives as he turns more fully towards the scene. 

“Do we have a problem?” Aaron says quietly. 

“Not as long as that homo keeps his filthy hands to himself,” Jack snarls before flinching again when Aaron flips the racquet so fast that the head smacks loudly on the wood floor. The noise echoes against the plexiglass walls.

Andrew watches Kevin wince out of the corner of his eye. 

“Fuck off,” Aaron says civilly.

Jack bristles. “You can’t just-”

“Did you not hear me? I said, fuck off.”

Jack sputters, his face growing red with embarrassment and indignation. “So – what – what is this? Are you all fucking fags? Is that it? Your whole family is just dying to get something shoved up their ass?”

“Uh, dude,” Rob winces. “He’s totally in love with that cheerleader.”

“Ha! Yeah, right. So what, is she your beard? Or maybe you just like getting done by both? Fucking whore-”

In a startling show of patience, Aaron just lets Jack run his mouth. When he realizes Aaron isn’t responding to this, Jack grows even more flustered, eyes like a caged animal as he gropes around wildly for something else to insult him with. 

His eyes land on Andrew. “-or maybe it just pisses you off how your brother gets on his knees and opens his mouth for anyone? How does it feel to watch your mirror image beg for cock like a dirty slut-”

Aaron smashes his fist into Jack’s face. Jack crumples to the floor, his hand lifting to his jaw. Andrew can see a bit of blood dripping down from his mouth. 

Aaron crouches down and says, “Keep running your mouth about either of them, and I’ll use your face as target practice for my racquet.” 

Jack’s eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

Aaron tilts his head. “I did it once for him. What makes you think I wouldn’t do it again?”

Jack swallows but says nothing.

Aaron stands just as Wymack reaches them. “What the fuck is going on? I leave for five goddamn minutes, and this team goes to shit. Someone talk _now_.”

The Foxes stare back at him, silent. Aaron holds out a hand to Nicky, who dazedly lets his cousin pull him to his feet.

Wymack points at Jess. “You. _Vice-Captain_. What the hell happened?”

“Sorry, Coach,” Jess shrugs her shoulders as she stands two feet away from Jack. “No idea. Didn’t see a thing.”

Andrew sees Matt’s mouth quirk slightly. Clearly, Neil has taught her well.

“Fine,” Wymack snaps. “Full-court sprints for all of you. You won’t talk now; you sure as hell won’t be able to talk after. You can run until you stop being idiots for all I care. Get moving, now!”

The team groans as they begin, Andrew sheathing his knives discreetly as they get to it. 

\---

It’s much later in practice when Dom is idly twirling his racquet near Andrew’s goal that the idiot’s curiosity gets the best of him. “Umm…so like…Neil really didn’t say anything?”

Andrew doesn’t respond. He keeps his gaze on the action that’s happening at the other end of the court, where the rest of the team is scrimmaging.

“Uh, you know…um…about- about the shit we said in the locker room the other day?”

Andrew turns now and faces Dom, causing him to miss and drop his racquet on his foot. “No. He didn’t,” he grits out, each word scraped from his tongue like a rough stone.

Dom whistles. “Damn, really? Cap is such a cool dude. I can’t believe he didn’t say shit.”

Andrew’s jaw clenches. “And what exactly did you say?”

“Uh, well, we um, you see- it’s a funny story- we, ah…maybe kind of talked about you- but you know, it’s kinda like…and he got really pissed at us, told us to shut up because…oh god… _me estás jodiendo_ …” Dom coughs a bit, his cheeks growing red. 

“If that’s your way of telling him you were an absolute dipshit and slut-shamed him because of some stupid rumors, you’re doing a terrible job of it!” Nicky cheerfully shouts from his position on the other side of the court. 

Dom panics, eyes wide as they fling back to Andrew, but Andrew simply returns to watching the scrimmage. “I don’t give a shit what you think about me.”

Silence falls between them. Andrew observes Kevin score on Carlos again at the other goal and then stops play to start ripping him a new one. 

Then Dom pipes up again, “But Neil does.”

Andrew slides his gaze back to him. 

“Dude beat the crap out of four of us and told us never to talk shit about you again,” Dom says honestly, not shying away from Andrew’s penetrating stare. “Kind of like what you just said earlier…” 

Some realization seems to strike him. He can physically see the way Dom’s eyes cloud over for a second, his brow furrowing and his head tilting slightly. “Wait, so are you guys really a thing or not?”

Andrew stiffens. “Why?”

“Why what?” Dom repeats, confused.

“Why do you care? What’s it to you?” 

“Oh! It’s not a big deal or anything - it’s just really confusing as hell, man. To be honest, I thought you hated him. You both put off these crazy-ass vibes, and at first, I thought it was like how much both of you wanted to kill the other, but now I’m starting to see why some of the team might think the two of you are together. I mean, can we just start with the matching armbands? And then the other day, when you and Aaron were talking about Neil in the parking lot? Then there’s the time-”

He keeps going, rambling on and on about all of his and the team’s opinions about what he and Neil are or are not, and it’s Andrew’s worst nightmare. He just wants the kid to shut up and go the hell away when something draws Andrew’s attention.

“-and then one of the volleyball players was bragging about how he’d done Neil, and I was like ‘no way, man, he doesn’t even know your name,’ and he was like ‘didn’t have to for what we were doing’ and I was like ‘get the fuck out,’ and he was like-”

Andrew nails him with a glare. “He said what?”

Dom startles, apparently having realized at some point that he was having this conversation mainly by himself. “Uh- this dude on the 2nd floor? From the volleyball team? Said he’d done some shit with Neil?” He shrugs. “Not the first guy I heard claim it, honestly. There are at least two from the swim team, I think another from the basketball team and one of the soccer players. And those are just the ones I know of in Fox Tower.”

Rage builds quickly inside of Andrew, a swirling vortex of black and red as Dom continues talking.

“Honestly, I told them they were full of shit because Neil never hangs out with anyone except for the team, but-”

“What the fuck are their names?”

Dom steps back instinctively from the sudden fury infused into Andrew’s tone. Then he bounces forward again, his eyes alight. “Why, man? We gonna go fuck ‘em up? Count me in!” He rubs his hands together delightedly. “Kicking ass and taking names. We’ll teach those fuckers not to mess with the Exy team. Gotta redeem your bro’s rep-”

“He’s not my ‘bro,’” Andrew snaps. 

And now Dom’s confused again. “Uh, okay…friend? Your pal? _Esta pana_? Teammate? Captain? Comrade? Associate? Fellow human being?”

Andrew clenches his jaw and says nothing.

“Okay, well, I mean, at the very least, we can set the record straight. Dude is never gonna get any with that kinda shit going around. Well, okay, wait, you know he’ll _get some_ , but not like, anything more if he wants it-”

“He doesn’t need to.”

“Uh, everybody needs a little loving, my friend. You can’t just-”

“No, you don't get it," Nicky chuckles, barging again into their conversation. "He’s saying Neil doesn’t need to ‘get any’ because he already is!” He throws Dom a lascivious wink at the end for emphasis.

Andrew whips a furious glare at him, but Nicky purposefully turns the other way. 

Dom pauses. He glances between the two of them. Then he asks Andrew, “Like, on the steady?”

Andrew clenches his jaw. His hands tighten on his racquet. They don’t owe anyone an explanation. But something is needling at his gut. Something he’s felt building since all of these stupid conversations with Bee, and Aaron, and Nicky, and he wishes everyone would just shut the hell up and leave him and Neil alone-

 _Fuck it_ , he thinks. Then he looks Dom in the eye and nods.

There’s a significant pause as Dom absorbs this. Andrew refuses to fidget, but he feels exposed. Even though he hasn’t actually confirmed anything outside of Neil being sexually active, this already feels like too much.

Dom opens his mouth and closes it again. Then he says, “So he’s taken.”

Taken. Andrew chews on the word in his mouth for a moment. The root of it is complicated and ambiguous. To _take_ can mean to hold something in one’s hands, to occupy a place or position, to gain or acquire something, or to secure by winning. And there are tons more definitions besides those. 

But _taken_ is different. Taken can only mean a couple of things. 

It can mean when something begins to grow – like when things take root. It can also mean when someone is taken with something, meaning they believe it deserves respect or admiration. 

Or it can mean unavailable- as in, in an emotional or sexual relationship. 

He could choose which definition he wants, but he knows what will be assumed in this situation, regardless of how he sees it. His instinct is to shut it down, to default to something safe and distant. But something is nagging at him at the base of his spine. He tries to parse out what it is.

It’s not like he’s confirming who Neil’s with. In fact, he’s not even saying how he swings (or the fact that he doesn’t). So Andrew’s denial or confirmation is almost useless to Dom.

So why does Andrew even feel the need to answer?

It’s not like they haven’t dealt with these rumors before. Last year, the freshmen had been more than curious about Neil’s love life and what Neil and Andrew’s strange relationship was all about. Yet he and Neil had easily been able to keep the two ideas at arms-length. One look from Andrew, or a fiery retort from Neil, and most of the team left them the hell alone.

But Neil’s power struggle with Jack had changed all of that. 

Jack repaid them for his repeated humiliations by demolishing Andrew’s privacy. Somehow, his sexual orientation and number of past partners became the highlight of campus gossip. And the stories only grew from there. 

Neil had been furious. 

> _“He’s not wrong,” Andrew drawls, sitting on the top bleacher of the empty stadium._
> 
> _“But it’s none of his fucking business,” Neil whips out in return, pacing in the row below Andrew. His breath comes out in white puffs in the frigid air. “Does anyone give a shit how many girls he’s fucked? No. So why the hell does it matter if you’ve been with multiple guys before?”_
> 
> _Andrew exhales, watching smoke mix with his breath as they both disappear into the falling flakes. “Perhaps it’s the sheer impossibility of it?” he ventures, humoring Neil’s question. “That someone wants to have sex with the monster?" He lifts a single eyebrow and deadpans, "The horror.”_
> 
> _Neil nails him with a glare. “Don’t call yourself that.”_
> 
> _Andrew shrugs._
> 
> _Neil runs a frustrated hand through his hair. It’s littered with melting snowflakes, the heat of his hand making it grow matted and wet. He sighs and shakes his head. “The way they’ve all just ran with it. It’s so fucking presumptuous. Why are people always so fascinated by what they don’t understand?”_
> 
> _“You mean repulsed.” Andrew flicks his lighter, holding his freezing palm out above it._
> 
> _Neil gives him another look. Then he stops. His eyes grow determined. “I’m going to tell them.”_
> 
> _“Tell them what?”_
> 
> _“That we’re together.”_
> 
> _Something sharp spikes in Andrew’s chest. “‘We’ are nothing.”_
> 
> _Neil makes a frustrated noise. “No, right, I know, but maybe if they think that, then they’ll leave you alone-”_
> 
> _“I don’t need your lies, Josten,” Andrew dismisses the suggestion immediately. “Your ‘shield’ is unwanted and unnecessary. You will only be giving him fuel for a fire you’re barely containing as it is.”_
> 
> _“I know that!” Neil snaps. “It’s just-” He stops and takes a deep breath before he continues quietly, “Why are you the only one who has to suffer?”_
> 
> _Andrew smirks as he leans back. “Now the rabbit begins to learn the consequences of staying. What happens when you stand instead of flee.” He looks into the frozen ice shards of Neil's blue eyes and asks, “Tell me. Is it worth it?”_
> 
> _Neil returns his gaze fiercely. “Always.”_

Aaron’s trial snuck up on them, though, and the aftermath of that event wipes out the sordid rumors of Andrew’s sexual history in the blink of an eye. His name becomes tangled up in the grapevine with much uglier truths instead. For the remainder of the year, none of the Foxes dare bring up any topic concerning him and sex again. 

So in comparison to all the horrible things that have been revealed about him, what did Andrew care if the others thought that Neil was taken?

It should be easy to dismiss. A no-brainer. He didn’t want others to touch what he and Neil have.

But Dom’s comments from earlier resurface in his mind. Others are claiming Neil. Other people who somehow think that because Neil hasn’t declared his relationship status, then they have the right to intrude on his privacy, to trample his boundaries, to take what isn’t theirs just to give themselves an ego boost. 

It pisses Andrew off. The way Neil is being… _used_ without his consent or knowledge. 

He should simply ignore it. People will always talk. But…what if confirming this is a way to stop it? 

It’s not like he’d be lying. Neil is currently busy with someone who takes his full time and attention. (Which he feels no guilt over). And if this is a way to protect him…

Neil's words come ringing back to him, along with the frustration and helplessness behind them. _Maybe if they think that, then they’ll leave you alone_. He suddenly knows exactly what he meant. 

_Pot meet kettle._

Or is Andrew just using this whole thing as an excuse for what he really wants?

And wait…when the hell did he start wanting this?

 _Small steps,_ Bee’s voice comes to him from the back of his mind. _You just have to take one small step when the time feels right._

Andrew swallows. He hesitates. Then he grits out, “Yes.”

It’s just one little word, one that says almost nothing and yet everything. His shoulders are wound tight, and he braces himself for the sky to shatter above him, for the world to fall apart from this one tiny word. Because he knows it has the power to do so. 

But as the seconds tick by, something in his chest begins to uncoil as Dom simply nods. His head is tilted to the side as he thinks for a moment. 

“And you know who it is.”

Another pause. Then, “Yes.”

And immediately, he wants to take it back. 

For a moment, he feels nauseous. Neil is not his. He is not a thing to possess, to own. Andrew does not have any claim or right over him. Especially not now. Not when Andrew doesn’t even know where they stand.

He can feel his breathing start to shift, can feel the panic growing in his chest as he scrambles to find a way to convey this. But before he can even try, his hackles raise, an internal war raging inside him that screams why the fuck should he have to explain himself to anyone-

But it all releases again when Dom simply shrugs. “Okay, man. Cool. Got it.” He freezes before his eyes open wide. “Oh damn! That’s right, I can finally-” he cuts himself off as he digs around, and then suddenly his phone is in his hand, pulled from someplace on his person that Andrew really doesn’t want to think about. “That took forever,” he grumbles as he puts the phone up to his ear. 

Now it’s Andrew’s turn to tilt his head as he watches the backliner. 

A couple of seconds later, Dom laughs as he says, “Yo José? _Qué lo qué_? Yeah, yeah, remember that guy you were asking me about? Uh-huh. Yeah, no dice, man, he’s not available.” There’s a pause. “Yeah, man, that’s what I said.” Another pause. “Look, I don’t know, man! Go play your stupid football and find another _jevo_. And let me know when you want to try a real sport.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TAKING A CALL IN THE MIDDLE OF MY PRACTICE, PISANO?”

Dom rolls his eyes at Coach before he continues. “Uh-huh. _Azaroso. Chao_.” He hangs up the phone, making a big show of putting it away to Wymack, before turning back to Andrew. 

“Man, glad that’s over. Dude has been bugging me for weeks to see if Cap was single, and I was like, shit, I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “Fucker was relentless.”

Andrew stares at him. 

Dom looks nervously to the side before picking his racquet back up and spinning it again. “So, we ah, cool?”

Andrew stares for a moment or two longer, letting him sweat it. Then he turns his gaze back to the field and ignores him. Dom seems to take this for the acceptance it is, wisely shutting up and bounding over to chat with Nicky. 

But Andrew is rooted to the spot. His heartbeat is thumping rapidly in his chest as Dom’s words turn over and over in his mind. 

_So he’s taken?_

_Okay, man. Cool. Got it._

_Yeah, no dice, he’s not available._

He flicks a glance at the kid, who is now talking animatedly with his cousin. That was…surprisingly painless. There were no questions, no second-guessing, no wild reactions. Nothing.

He knows it won’t always be this way, but Dom’s simple acceptance is almost anticlimactic to what he’d been expecting.

In fact, if anything, Andrew feels this weird surge of satisfaction oozing over his insides. He feels smug like he’s won something. And maybe he has because he never realized that saying Neil and him are… _something_ …would make others leave them alone. Up until this point, the only people who’ve known that anything had happened between him and Neil were the older Foxes. And they were always sticking their damn nose in his business, fussing anytime he and Neil even looked at each other. 

The fact that there were people out there who didn’t give a shit? And would dismiss them the moment they stated they were unavailable? 

Hm. That was - well. Something.

He stows it away in the back of his mind, hoarding the observation and his reaction to it like a squirrel storing a nut so that he can pull it back out and examine it with Bee later on. 

As practice draws to a close, Aaron and he catch each other’s eyes accidentally. There’s an awkward pause where they stare at one another. Then Aaron gives him a slight nod before he disappears through the court doors. 

Someone clears their throat behind him. “You guys good?” Kevin asks. 

Andrew snorts. Are he and Aaron ever really ‘good’? The answer is more complicated than even he can comprehend. So he simply shrugs. 

He turns as Jess’s bright and cheery voice cuts through his thoughts. “So, is no one going to talk about the fact that there’s a video of Cap free-climbing seven stories outside one of the dorm buildings? No? We’re all just gonna ignore that? Cool.”

“Jesus, that guy is scary,” Rob shakes his head. “I mean, did you see the way he was throwing those knives? Like he’d been doing it his whole life?”

Brian grins. “Man, when he gets back, I’ve got like twenty million questions for him-”

“No.”

Brian spins around to face him. “Ah, Andrew,” he winces. 

Andrew takes a hard look at him. He doesn’t give a shit that Brian has a giant man-crush on Neil, practically worshipping the ground he walks on. He’s putting a stop to this right now.

His gaze passes over each of them as they crowd around the court doors. “I’m going to say this once. No one’s asking Neil shit when he returns, or else they’ll find themselves on the wrong end of my knife. Got it?”

There’s audible swallowing before many of them nod their heads. It’s only Dom who lazily salutes him and answers, “You got it, _matatan_.”

Andrew narrows his eyes at him. The little shit grins back. 

He’s definitely looking that one up later.

But right now, he’s got bigger things to take care of. Like kicking everyone’s ass who ever said shit about Neil, starting with that damn volleyball player on the second floor. 

He cracks his knuckles as he heads into the locker room, jamming his helmet into the tiny metal cabinet and ignoring Neil's closed door beside him. 

At least now he won’t be bored while Neil is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grabbed some fun little Dominican Republic slang words just to be authentic to Dom’s family roots. I think for the most part you can pretty much guess what these are, but for full transparency:
> 
>   * me estás jodiendo- basically like "are you kidding me?/are you shitting me?"
>   * pana- bro/buddy/pal
>   * Qué lo qué – just a very informal greeting, basically like “what’s up?”
>   * Jevo- informal way to say “boy.”
>   * Azaroso- from what I read, it’s basically like “hater.” Technically, there’s an official definition that says it comes from the verb “azarar,” which is a “person who is there to only ruin your life and bring bad luck and damnation upon you and your family.” (like damn). But the vibe now is that you call someone it when they annoy the shit out of you. (I have a feeling Dom calls Kevin this a lot.) 
>   * Chao- just what you think it is- casual way to say “bye!”
>   * Matatan- another word for saying someone is the “master” of something. Or in other words- “the boss.”
> 

> 
> (I think I got all of these right, so Dominican Republic friends please correct me if I mess something up!)
> 
> Poor Andrew, suffering a little in this one as he feels Neil withdrawals (and I am too!) and also starts to connect some major dots. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading guys! See you next chapter!
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> _Choose us_ , Neil once said. _Come with us. Let’s all play in the Olympics together one day._
> 
> Play Exy professionally. Let stickball become part of his life permanently. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been considering it. But it had also seemed like a path that came with Neil attached, a pleasant bonus that Andrew thought would make the choice easier.
> 
>  _I don’t want this to end_ , Neil had said. 
> 
> _Everything ends_ , he had replied. 
> 
> “-Andrew, watch out!”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew talks to two people who aren't Neil, and discovers that it only takes ten minutes and three languages to completely rock his world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: Mild depression notes, blood, references to torture and violence, homophobic comments from Jack.

Andrew’s waiting with the rest of the team in the hallway, the air still buzzing from the thrill of their latest victory. As usual, Neil is the last in the locker rooms, showering and getting changed out before they all get on the bus and head home. 

The crowd roars outside, still pissed about the Foxes swooping in and beating the home team on their turf. There’s a couple of security guards on detail to help escort them back to their bus just in case, but Andrew could care less. He can take care of his own. 

When Neil finally comes out of the locker room, Nicky chides him for making them wait, and Neil immediately apologizes. It makes Andrew’s brow furrow. He walks up in front of Neil, forcing his distant, sweeping gaze to focus on him. 

Blue eyes dig into Andrew’s as he whispers. “ _Thank you. You were amazing_.”

Then he’s suddenly swept away, and there’s hands pushing and pulling, bodies ramming into each other, blood everywhere. He’s searching and searching, but he can’t find Kevin, or Nicky, or Aaron. Where are they? Where is Neil?

He stumbles over something on the ground and finds a broken racquet and a ripped duffel bag. Digging into it, he pulls out a cell phone with a blinking text message on the screen, showing the number zero. A woman’s laugh ripples in the air around him. 

Then he’s running again, pushing past faceless bodies as they block his path. He jerks as a raven swoops low, talons ripping into his shoulder as it flies by. 

_“-Andrew-”_

Finally, he runs into Wymack. 

“Where is he?” Andrew shouts at him. 

His coach slowly shakes his head and lowers the phone from his ear. “They found his body,” he says hollowly, and Andrew jerks back. 

He turns around and sees Neil lying on the ground in the distance. He runs towards him, falling to his knees and touching ice-cold limbs, brushing aside wet, matted hair. There’s so much blood, there always is when it comes to Neil, but he constantly rallies. He always bounces back. He’s not going to die here. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end. 

_“-Andrew, come on-”_

Aaron kneels down on the ground next to Neil’s body. He grabs onto his wrist, feeling for a pulse before he slowly shakes his head. He looks at Andrew with sad eyes. “It will always be how this ends, Andrew.”

“No,” Andrew shakes his head. “No, I won’t let it.” He grabs onto Neil’s shoulders and shakes them. “Neil!” He shouts and stares into open, vacant blue eyes. “Neil, wake up! Neil! NEIL!”

 _“-Andrew, he’s fine! Andrew, snap out of it, wake up! Neil is okay, I promise, it’s just a dream. Wake up!_ Come on, wake up!”

Andrew gasps, flinging himself upright in bed as Kevin’s voice finally breaks through. He’s shaking, panting; sweat coats the inside of his shirt. He feels like his hands are still covered in Neil’s blood, panic and adrenaline still coursing through his veins. 

Kevin isn’t touching Andrew, but he’s close by. He’s standing on Neil’s empty cot below, his arms holding onto Andrew’s bedframe for purchase as he stares at him. He doesn’t say anything now that Andrew is awake, but he also seems reluctant to move away. 

From the look on his face, he knows exactly what Andrew was dreaming about. 

Andrew pulls his knees up and rests his forehead and elbows on them, burying his hands in his hair. He takes one shuddering breath, followed by another. Slowly, his skin begins to cool. 

Kevin doesn’t move. 

Together they stay like that, motionless and breathing into the silence.

\---

They don’t talk about it the next morning. He and Kevin just go about their daily routine; eating their respective cereals for breakfast, taking turns in the bathroom to get changed and ready for practice, heading out to Andrew’s car to drive over to the gym. 

When they enter the building, Kevin pauses but says nothing when Andrew stops dead in his tracks. His eyes are glued to a small figure running on a treadmill. 

It’s Neil.

It’s the first time he’s joined the team since the party last weekend. He’s already sweating, indicating he’s been on the machine for a while. For a moment, they both watch Neil’s legs move tirelessly along the rotating track. 

Then Andrew heads into the locker room, breathing a little easier than he was before. 

He goes about his day like normal- or what is his new normal, anyway. He goes to class, grabs a bite to eat at the dining hall, smokes a cigarette on the roof. Exchanges two, maybe three words with Kevin or Nicky. Sometimes he can be coaxed into playing a video game with his brother; other days, he just sits back and does his best to ignore the sudden Neil-sized gap in his life. 

He wonders if this is what the future will be like, and why it suddenly seems like such a chore, existing. It’s dull and monotonous. It barely gives him a reason to get out of bed in the morning. He’s reminded of what life felt like before Neil came to PSU, before the medications messed with his brain. But this time, it comes with the slick uncertainty of not knowing what comes next.

Andrew feels listless, without purpose. Each person in his circle has a direction, an exact path they know they will take. Neil and Kevin will pursue professional Exy because they have to - because fucking Ichirou will kill them if they don’t prove to be valuable assets. Aaron has always wanted to be a doctor and will continue with medical school, followed by his residency and potentially a fellowship. He will likely marry Katelyn at some point along the way. Nicky will leave, following his heart across the sea to marry the man of his dreams, and start a new life in Germany, surrounded by a family who finally loves him for himself. 

And what will Andrew do? Does it really matter?

 _Choose us_ , Neil once said. _Come with us. Let’s all play in the Olympics together one day._

Play Exy professionally. Let stickball become part of his life permanently. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been considering it. But it had also seemed like a path that came with Neil attached, a pleasant bonus that Andrew thought would make the choice easier. 

_I don’t want this to end_ , Neil had said. 

_Everything ends_ , he had replied. 

“-Andrew, watch out!”

Andrew blinks, his nose millimeters away from a brick column that he could have sworn hadn’t been there a second ago. 

Katelyn is frozen next to him, one hand outstretched but not touching, her face full of concern. 

He takes a step back. She does as well, withdrawing her hand. 

“Ah,” She says, eyes widening as she looks around helplessly. “I – um - do you- ah- want to…talk about it?”

Andrew stares at her. 

Then he shakes his head slowly, and she looks relieved. But she hurriedly adds on, “Okay but- if you wanted to, you know- you could, um, I mean, we could. Together. Maybe. Okay?”

Andrew stays silent. Then he turns and continues walking towards the dorm. 

“Right,” he hears Katelyn mutter behind him as she follows. 

He walks ridiculously slow, but Katelyn never leaves him. She paces herself a step behind and to the side, where she knows Andrew can see her, but she doesn’t speak. 

When the building is in sight, they see Kevin waiting by the front door with two bags for practice. 

“Um,” she pipes up again as they draw near the entrance, “Andrew…” She swallows. 

Andrew stops. He shifts slightly towards her. 

“I just thought…you should know that…” She takes a deep breath before diving straight into it. “Whenever Aaron talks about the future- about you in particular- he always includes Neil as part of it.” Her mouth quirks as she says wryly, “I honestly don’t think he even knows he does it. He just sees Neil as a constant. As someone who will always be there with you. He doesn’t think twice about it.” 

She pauses, seems to gather her resolve, and whispers, “And since Neil looks just as miserable right now as you do, I’m willing to bet that both of you thought the same.” 

Andrew turns his head now to meet her gaze. 

“Whatever this is about, it’s not worth losing what the two of you have over it. Don’t let fear stand in your way, Andrew.”

“And what the hell would you know about _facing your fear_?” Andrew snarks at the meaningless platitude, anger slipping between his teeth in response to a situation that she couldn’t possibly understand. 

But Katelyn smiles at him, the movement small and weary. She looks down at the distance between the two of them and asks, “What do you think I’ve been doing for the past month?”

Andrew blinks. He opens his mouth and then closes it. 

Katelyn doesn’t wait for a response though. She simply slips past him through the doors of the Tower and is gone. 

Andrew stares at Kevin. Then he turns around and heads towards the parking lot.

Kevin follows silently.

The car is quiet on the way over to the Court, each man seemingly lost in their own thoughts as they pull in. 

Once they’re parked, Andrew turns off the ignition. He sits there a moment. Then he sighs and places his fingers on the door handle. 

He goes to step out of the car when suddenly the doors lock. 

Andrew frowns, stares at the door, then looks across the seat to where Kevin’s finger is on the lock button. Without taking his gaze away, Andrew hits the unlock button again. Kevin stares him down and presses ‘lock’ once more. 

The two of them battle for a couple seconds, each pressing their buttons stubbornly before Andrew snarls, “Touch it again, and you’re gonna lose a finger, Day. Get the fuck out of my car!”

“Why are you and Neil avoiding each other?” Kevin replies calmly, ignoring the threat. 

Andrew’s starting to wonder if he’s lost his touch. Maybe he needs to stab someone soon, just to prove a point. Kevin looks like a good option.

“This isn’t like you guys,” Kevin continues.

“What do you care?” Andrew snaps. “Doesn’t matter as long as I keep practicing Exy like a good little boy each night-”

“Which you only do because you keep expecting him to show up.”

Andrew shuts his mouth, pressing his lips together firmly.

Kevin shakes his head. “I’m not stupid, Andrew.” He ignores Andrew’s snort. “I know you’re upset.”

Andrew glares at him, breath hissing through his teeth. But before he can reply, Kevin goes on. “Which makes sense. Who wouldn’t be?” He shrugs. “You miss him.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

A corner of Kevin’s mouth kicks up. “I miss him too.” He lifts an eyebrow and stares at Andrew. “Did you know that he replaced all the liquor in my vodka bottles with water? Finally found the last one last night. Little shit.” He says the statement with affectionate nostalgia. Like Neil is something of the past. Like Neil has died. 

Andrew swallows. “There’s nothing to miss.”

“Andrew.” Kevin turns somber eyes towards him. His tone is a mix of sympathy and understanding. He says quietly, “You’re only fooling yourself if you still think it’s nothing.”

Andrew sucks in a breath. He returns Kevin’s gaze for only a second before he turns away and stares out the front window. He doesn’t say anything. Because what could he? 

Outside, a bunch of Foxes make their way into the stadium. The clock is drawing closer and closer to the start of practice, so close that Andrew’s sure Kevin is going to make a comment any moment now about how they’re going to be late. He sees him open his mouth out of the corner of his eye and feels vindicated about how some things never change, like the seasons. Like Kevin’s obnoxious love for Exy. 

But when Kevin opens his mouth, it’s to ask, “Why did you agree?”

Andrew blinks before furrowing his brow. 

Kevin clarifies. “Why did you agree to our deal back then? When I approached you before, you wouldn’t even give me the time of day. And I had way more to offer when I was a Raven than when I came to PSU. What made you change your mind?”

Andrew remembers the night he saw Kevin at Wymack’s apartment, sitting bruised and bloody on his couch. He wasn’t the shining star of Exy then. He was just a broken boy, lost and alone. Andrew had seen the glass façade for what it was when Kevin first visited him – he was a shell of a person, someone who had been crushed again and again. Now Kevin’s outside finally matched the shattered pieces within. 

What Andrew didn’t expect was for like to recognize like. Kevin was one of the only people to really see Andrew – and the first to look beyond. Despite Andrew’s apathetic attitude and cold brush-offs, Kevin was convinced that Andrew was worth something. That he could be something more.

So in the following weeks while he recovered, Kevin pursued Andrew with his characteristic stubbornness, a bullheaded determination to convince Andrew otherwise. 

_When there is nothing else to hold you up, I will give you something to build your life around._

But his perseverance was only one piece of why Andrew was finally swayed. Underneath all that arrogance, he could see Kevin’s desperation, the way he gave Andrew the only thing he thought he had to offer. Exy was Kevin’s everything. And though Andrew knew it wouldn’t be enough, he had accepted anyway.

Then he thinks back to his conversation with Aaron the other day. 

“Because you promised me something and I wanted to believe you,” he tells Kevin now. He’d wanted to believe the lie, even though he knew it was one the minute he’d heard it coming out of Kevin’s mouth. 

“Do you believe me now?” Kevin asks. 

And there was the irony of the entire situation because Kevin had delivered – just not in the way he ever expected. Kevin had hand-picked Neil. And Andrew’s life will never be the same because of it.

Andrew hums before choosing his next words carefully. “Would I still be here otherwise?”

They no longer had a deal. Andrew and Kevin were not bound by blood the way Aaron and Nicky were. There was nothing that should keep the two of them together. 

But Kevin was one of his now. Would always be, deal or no deal. 

And Kevin was one of the only people he knew who had ever kept his promise.

The realization hits Kevin like a ton of bricks. He sucks in a breath, his eyes widening. The corner of his mouth curls ever so slightly.

Andrew waits in silence.

Then Kevin clears his throat. “So, to be clear, it’s not because you thought I was…because you wanted to…in any way…”

Andrew looks at him amusedly. “If I had just wanted to fuck you, Kevin, I would have.” Kevin chokes. Andrew continues doggedly, “I wouldn’t have gotten tied up in the rest of your bullshit.”

“That’s- I didn’t- you- I-” Kevin splutters, his face red as a tomato. Then he grumbles, “Well, it’s not like I wanted to deal with any of it either.”

“You didn’t,” Andrew reminds him bluntly. “Neil and I did.”

“Hey! I would have done something…eventually…” 

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Having an attractive face doesn’t cover up the fact that you were a spineless moron, Day.”

“You think my face is attractive?” Kevin asks, stunned. 

Of course, he focuses on the wrong part of the sentence. 

Andrew sighs and wonders why he’s cursed to be surrounded by idiots. Idiots who apparently assume that he has no sex drive. Even though he’s probably had more hook-ups than all of them combined.

“What do you care? Thinking of leaving Thea?”

“No, of course not,” Kevin mutters. “Just surprising is all. I’ve never thought about being gay.”

Andrew stares at him. 

“What? I mean it, Andrew.”

Andrew continues to stare. 

“I am straight. Totally straight. Straight as an arrow, or a line, or a-”

“You stare at Jeremy’s ass every single time he’s in town, without fail,” Andrew tattles. “If he snapped his fingers, you would jump at the chance.”

“I-” and now Kevin’s face somehow turns even redder than before. “Holy shit, is it that obvious?”

Andrew rolls his eyes and points at himself. “Gay, remember?” Then he tilts his head. “Why don’t you try talking to him?”

“Because I have Thea.”

Andrew waits, but a further explanation isn’t forthcoming. “Why does it sound like you’re ticking a box here, Day?”

“Because I am. Thea knows me. She understands the importance of Exy from our Raven days, as well as the PR expectations we owe to the public.”

Andrew lifts an eyebrow. “Are there pension benefits worked into this contract as well?”

“Oh, fuck off. Thea and I have simply reached an arrangement that we both find mutually beneficial.”

“So it’s easier.”

Kevin sucks in a breath. Then he barrels on, “I’ve told you before that being heterosexual in the sports world is much simpler than-”

“So because it might be hard, talking to Jeremy isn’t worth it? You’re with Thea just to satisfy other people’s expectations of how your life should be lived? Don’t you think that’s unfair to both Thea and yourself?”

Kevin mutters, grumbling something to himself before he blurts out, “Why the hell are we talking about this anyway? We were talking about you and Neil.”

Damn it.

“Like I said, there’s nothing more to talk about.”

“Bullshit.”

Andrew grits his teeth. “Are you trying to piss me off, Day? Because I have absolutely no qualms about walking into that stadium and informing Wymack that he now has one less striker to contend with-”

“What’s today’s color?”

The question is so out of the blue that it stops Andrew in his tracks. 

“You know,” Kevin says, waving his hand in the air. “That thing you said you do with Bee. What’s today’s color?”

He considers not telling him, just for spite. It’s not what he had been expecting. 

He’s also trying to recall why he ever confided this particular quirk to Kevin. Probably because he’d been trying to help Kevin out of one of his Riko-induced panic attacks. Because apparently, he’s a fucking sap. 

He glares at Kevin. Then he says, “Burnt Umber.”

The color of dried blood. Of rust, and dried leather and coffins. Remnants of the past. Things that once were. The color of rot and decay. 

Kevin just stares at him. 

Andrew rolls his eyes. “It’s a reddish-brown, Kevin.”

Kevin is silent for a moment, then he nods. “Like bricks, or sandstone. Foundations.”

Andrew furrows his brow. 

Kevin explains. “It’s like when there’s a fire. It can be devastating. You feel like everything’s been destroyed, razed to the ground. But even after a fire burns, the foundation remains.” Kevin looks at him. “It’s a sign that not all is lost.”

Andrew stills. A sliver of light trickles through him, a tiny bit of warmth that blossoms despite his attempts to kill it. 

He stares down at his hands on the steering wheel, where he finds they are gripping it tight. He doesn’t know what makes him decide to say something; he hears the words coming out of his mouth before he can stop them. “He won’t even look at me. Runs before I have the chance.” He pauses, then adds. “I can’t tell what he’s thinking.”

And out of the corner of his eye, he watches a small, rare smile cross Kevin’s face. “I think I can help with that.”

\---

Andrew should have known that when Day said “help,” he meant “publicly ream Neil out in French.” 

And how exactly did the idiot think this was going to help Andrew? He doesn’t fucking speak French. 

Andrew can’t find it in himself to be completely annoyed at Kevin, though. Not only is he interrupting practice (which should always happen in Andrew’s estimation), but a small, vicious part of him is secretly pleased that Neil is at the brunt of this attack. 

Let him suffer a little.

He can see the furrowing of Neil’s brow as he stares at Kevin, mild surprise reflected in his features. This is somewhat out of character for the faint-hearted striker, and he knows it. 

Andrew watches as Kevin continues talking to Neil before Jess begins to murmur, something so quiet that only Neil can hear. 

“Care to share with the rest of the class, Day?” Brian pipes up. “Or do we have to start guessing why you’re pissed at Neil now?”

Neil makes a silent motion, stopping the team’s comments before they can really get started. Then he addresses Kevin directly. “ _Ce qui se passe entre moi et notre gardien de but ne te regarde pas. Mon jeu va bien. Manquer quelques entraînements de nuit ne changera rien à ça. Laissez tomber.”_

A secret thrill goes up Andrew’s spine as the language leaves Neil’s lips. Whereas Kevin somehow makes it seem stark and robotic, French flows off Neil’s tongue like melted chocolate. It’s one of Andrew’s favorite things to listen to. 

If only he could understand it.

He really should have had Neil teach him French before this. 

Kevin scoffs. “ _Vous devez bien dormir, Neil. Vous accroupir sur le canapé de Matt peut vous aider à panser vos blessures, mais cela ne vous gardera pas en vie. Exy le fera. Tu dois t’en remettre.”_

Neil barks out a derisive laugh, and Andrew doesn’t need a translator to know Neil tells Kevin to go to hell in some way.

“What the fuck, Josten? Stop wasting our time and get on with it. You and Kevin can suck each other’s dicks some other time. Some of us have lives to get back to,” Jack breaks into their exchange with his usual homophobia and callousness. 

“Shut the fuck up, Jack. Neil’s our captain, and he runs practice, so he can choose to waste your time any damn way he feels like it,” Jess yells back at him. Some of their teammates mutter in support, eager to sink their teeth in and start taking sides. The Foxes are always up for a little blood. 

Andrew sighs. He puts a hand through his hair, tugging frustratedly. He’s suddenly bone-achingly tired. Tired of practice, tired of school, tired of the distance between him and Neil. He wonders how long this little stunt of Kevin’s will take. 

He simply doesn’t want to be here anymore. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nicky stare at him for a second, then look thoughtfully over at Kevin. He turns towards Neil and opens his mouth. _“Neil?”_ he says, but in German. “ _Do you want me to get Coach?”_

 _“No, it’s fine, Nicky,”_ Neil replies without pausing in the same language _._ Andrew nearly shudders. _“I can handle this.”_

But he’s barely got the last word out before Kevin is ranting at him again. Andrew can see Neil clench his jaw, his stance growing more and more defensive by the moment. If Andrew detaches himself, then it’s somewhat fascinating to watch. 

And apparently, the team agrees.

“I feel like I’m watching a PBS special,” Rob states. “Or maybe I set the language wrong on my TV. How do you turn on subtitles?”

“Does anyone else know French?” Holly sits up eagerly. “Because it sounds extremely hot, and I’m dying to know what they’re saying.”

“With any luck, Day is telling Josten what a waste of space he is and how literally anyone else could be a better captain,” Jack sneers. 

_“On second thought, I happily volunteer to sucker punch him_ ,” Nicky offers to Neil. Andrew seconds it silently. 

Neil whips his head towards Jack. “One more word, Jack, and you’ll be running laps for the rest of practice.” He turns back to Kevin. “ _Qu’est-ce que ça peut te faire? Tu te fous de moi hors du terrain._

“ _Bien sûr que oui. La façon dont vous menez votre vie personnelle peut avoir une incidence sur votre image, ce qui a une incidence sur votre jeu. De plus, nous sommes amis. En tant qu’ami, j’ai le droit de te dire quand tu prends des décisions merdiques_.”

Neil slaps a hand over his face and groans audibly. 

“Go ahead and make me, _Captain_!” Jack’s face is flushed. “Bet you’re not so brave without your pet monster around to save your ass.”

Andrew gives him a blatant side-eye. Jess starts whispering to Neil again.

Then, out of nowhere, Nicky says, “ _Umm, Neil, Andrew is pulling out his knives…”_

Which is interesting because Andrew isn’t. He’s thinking about it, sure, but he hasn’t actually moved. He feels Aaron’s gaze flick towards him as well, but he doesn’t say anything to contradict Nicky. 

Neil doesn’t check to confirm, however.

He shoots a low reply at Jess before telling Nicky in German to “ _handle it_ ,” his eyes never glancing towards Andrew. Then Kevin interrupts him again, which has Neil snarling something in return. He’s growing more flustered by the moment. 

“Got nothing to say, huh, Josten?” Jack sneers. “Fucking coward.”

 _“Seriously, Neil,”_ Nicky speaks up again. “ _I think Andrew’s going to stab Jack.”_

 _“So he_ saigne _a little_ ,” Neil retorts. 

Andrew blinks. Neil just mixed French with German and didn’t correct himself. It looks like he didn’t even notice. He catches a brief smile exchanged between Kevin and Nicky, and it suddenly dawns on him.

They’re doing this on purpose.

 _“Vous devez régler ce problème. Parlez-lui, Neil. Soyez honnête,”_ Kevin continues, relentless.

 _“Neil,”_ Nicky squeals _, “you have to-”_

And Neil flips.

It’s the moment Andrew’s been waiting for if he’s honest with himself. The unleashing of Neil’s anger is akin to watching a phoenix burst into flame. It’s both glorious and devastating. He’s enraptured every time. 

The one thing Andrew doesn’t know is whether he’s going to be able to appreciate the full fury of Neil’s temper, depending on what language he uses. And his prediction is half-right because when Neil starts speaking, it’s definitely not in English. His eyes are murdering Kevin, his body language and tone fully expecting him to take the brunt of it. But Andrew quickly realizes that not only is Neil not speaking in French but that he _doesn’t know he isn’t_. 

And then that amusement dies as he understands exactly what’s being said.

_“You want me to be honest, Kevin? Fine. Andrew and I fought because I realized that while he is the only one for me for the rest of my life, he has other options. He finds other people attractive, whereas I don’t. And while I will always choose him, I don’t know if I’ve ever really asked him whether he wants to be with me. If I didn’t ask, then it makes me the worst kind of monster there is.”_

What? 

… _What?_

Andrew blinks a couple of times, sure he’s misheard, but Neil moves on without pausing for breath, his mouth an unstoppable force. 

_“I know I don’t deserve Andrew. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened in my life, and I won’t be selfish and keep him if he wants someone else. So this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I will wait and watch him walk away if that’s what he wants.”_

Andrew stares at Neil, shocked. All the sounds in the background have dropped away, the air around Andrew eerily silent as the meaning of Neil’s words penetrate his brain. 

Neil doesn’t know if Andrew wants him. 

Bee’s words buzz in the back of his mind, echoes from their last session. 

_Yet none of it speaks to whether you want him here_. _Do you think that’s something he might be wondering as well?_

_Have you told him what he means to you, Andrew?_

Nicky covers his mouth with his hand, and Andrew can see his eyes filling. He glances at Andrew, but Andrew is unable to return his cousin’s gaze. He simply can’t tear his eyes away from Neil right now. 

Neil’s eyes are alight, his chest panting, the color high in his cheeks and neck. Pain radiates off him, from the tremor in his tone to the inward hunch of his shoulders. He’s curled both of his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. 

_“If there’s any other part of my private life you’d like to know about, like how often I suck his dick-”_ Nicky chokes on a laugh, _“-or how I cheer myself up by remembering a bullet crushing Riko’s brain, let me know_. _But in the meantime, I’m falling apart. And it’s nothing that some extra night drills will fix. So just let me get through this practice, suck at being captain like I usually do, and pretend like everything’s fine for another ten minutes, okay?”_

He hasn’t torn his gaze away from Kevin once, and Kevin keeps his expression fairly neutral. There’s only a slight crease to his brow that betrays he has no idea what Neil is saying. 

If Neil had been paying better attention, he would realize this was an act. Kevin barely blinks at Riko’s name after all. But then again, it had been difficult to understand. As Neil continued to speak, his ordinarily perfect fluency had grown thick with emotion, the words coming out harsher and more guttural as he went. Even Nicky had been squinting by the end to understand him.

But Neil, the oblivious idiot, notices none of this. As per usual, with his fury unleashed, he becomes grounded, snapping into his captain’s mode with renewed vigor. He whips out directions, threats, and next steps in a few sentences that has the team snapping to attention, Jack seething once more.

And then Andrew thinks that’ll be it. That Neil will be none the wiser to what he just revealed, leaving Andrew to do something about it. 

His breath stutters in his chest, stomach twisting into knots. What is he going to do about it?

But the decision is taken from him as Nicky speaks up once more, somehow unable to let it go. _“Just for the record, I actually think you’re a great captain. Dan would be proud of you_.”

Ah. There it is. 

He can almost hear the gears turning as Neil goes rigid, tilting his head at Nicky as he processes the words. Panic rises in his eyes as he whips his head towards Kevin. For his part, Kevin almost looks gleeful from the way he openly shows he has no idea what Neil said. 

And now the blood drains from Neil’s face. In tired resignation, he turns towards Nicky, Aaron, and Andrew and stares at each of them. Pity shows openly on Nicky’s face. Andrew is sure there’s a part of him that regrets his role in Neil’s admission, but he stares back at Neil without remorse. Aaron remains silent. His face is mostly blank, an expression Andrew is intimately familiar with, except for a kind of smug resignation. After a second or two, he simply dismisses Neil, breaking his gaze. 

And then Neil turns to him. 

Andrew holds nothing back. While his face remains impassive, he lets his eyes show the full torrent of emotions that he’s feeling right now: confusion, anger, frustration, annoyance, desperation, misery. 

_Want_. 

They stare at each other for what could be seconds, could be eons. Andrew’s heartbeat pulses loudly in his ears. He sees Neil’s chest rapidly rising and falling. 

Then Neil’s face flames before he’s suddenly sprinting towards the court doors. 

There’s a pregnant pause before the team reacts. Jess calls out to Neil, while others begin to shout and talk amongst themselves. Andrew can hear Jack laughing in the back before he stands up and follows Neil, uncaring of what the others think. 

He just reaches the lounge door when Wymack stops him, blocking it. “Wait, Andrew.”

Andrew glares at him. He can’t wait. He has to talk to Neil. Now.

Wymack shakes his head. “He needs some space, Andrew.”

Space? He’s had space for weeks. Andrew’s had enough of their space. 

“Whatever just happened out there, it’s obvious he’s shaken up from it. Go back to practice and let me talk to him.”

“No,” Andrew snaps. He’s losing his chance the more time they waste talking. Neil is in panic mode. He’s going to run. 

“I’m not arguing about this. You can talk to him after me, or you can not speak to him at all.” Wymack crosses his arms and stares at Andrew, his gaze unwavering. He’s obviously going to be stubborn about this. “Get out of here, Minyard, before I decide to bench both Day and Josten for the next game, and then you’ll have to deal with both of their whining.”

Andrew sizes Wymack up. Wymack doesn’t move.

He seriously considers taking his coach down before he ultimately decides it’s not worth it. “As soon as you’re done,” he snarls.

Wymack nods. “If he wants to. Go. Now.”

It takes Andrew a moment or two, but then he finally nods, dragging himself back to the goal. Fine. They’ve only got five minutes left in practice anyway. Even if Coach can’t calm Neil down, he makes a decent obstacle. He can at least keep Neil here. 

This isn’t an issue. Andrew can wait.

He snags a ball with his racquet and aims it so that it bounces off Jack’s helmet, causing the asshole to stumble and swear.

This isn’t a problem at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one with all the languages!! Woohoo!! Thank you to not_your_average_sloth for recommending some translation websites for the French! Hopefully they're a little more natural-sounding than my last google translations! 😉
> 
> Oh man, we're getting close guys! I can't believe we're nearing the end...thank you so much for reading and I'll see y'all Friday! 💖
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> That’s it. He’s not dealing with Day’s incompetence any longer. He’s going straight to the source.
> 
> His phone continues to ping from where he throws it down on the seat beside him, but he ignores it. He’s got the information he needs. 
> 
> Speeding over to Wymack’s place, he checks once to make sure his coach’s car is parked in the lot. Within minutes, he’s picking the lock on Wymack’s door and slamming it open. 
> 
> “Where is he?” Andrew asks without preamble, striding into the room.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andrew chews out his Coach before finally talking to the one person he actually wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: Vague references to abuse and rape/non-con.
> 
> Whew, let's go get some closure, y'all!

He obviously cannot wait.

Both Wymack’s office and the locker room are empty when practice wraps up. Andrew looks around the parking lot, but Wymack’s car is gone, and Neil is nowhere to be found. 

Frustrated, he goes back to the locker room and smashes his fist into his locker twice. The guys are silent, with only a few of the freshmen jumping at Andrew’s sudden violence.

He stalks into the shower and seethes, turning the water as hot as he can stand it. When he comes back out, he whips his clothes on and stomps back out to the parking lot. 

Kevin is waiting by the Maserati in silence.

When they arrive back at the dorm, Andrew goes to the window and opens it immediately. He drags a cigarette out and lights it within half a second. 

“Where the hell could he have gone?” Kevin asks for the fifteenth time, pacing their room like a caged tiger. “We were done with practice literally five minutes after he left. He can’t have gone far!”

Andrew doesn’t respond, letting Kevin rant on his own.

“Screw this, I’m calling him.” Kevin holds the phone up to his ear. Andrew sighs, knowing exactly how this scenario is going to play out. Predictably, in a few moments, Kevin huffs and tosses his phone on the couch. Then, a second later, he whips back over and grabs it again. 

“You know what they say about the definition of insanity,” Andrew drawls. 

“I’m texting Matt.”

Andrew stares back at Kevin. “What makes you think he’s at Matt’s?”

Kevin snorts. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? He hasn’t been here for weeks, Andrew. He’s gotta be sleeping somewhere.”

Andrew is silent. 

In theory…this is a good theory. In fact, it had been the prevalent one in Andrew’s mind for some time now. But the more he pushes against it right now, the more certain he is that it will break.

Mostly this is because Matt, Nicky, and Aaron all seemed surprised that Neil was “sick” for practice on Monday, something that would have been obvious if he were staying with them. But also, his cousin hasn’t inundated him with text messages and photos of Neil (something that Andrew is sure Nicky would have been providing him hourly), nor has he tried to pry his nose into their business in any way. And there’s no way Aaron wouldn’t have complained at least _once_ about the fact that he was sharing a room with Josten.

In fact, now that he truly examines the thought, he wonders why he had ever assumed it in the first place. 

Andrew’s continued silence must have indicated his doubt to Kevin because he glares back at him and says, “Fine, I’ll prove it. Hold on.”

He begins typing on his phone. A few seconds later, Andrew feels his own phone vibrate.

**Kevin** : ok thats it. matt i’m coming 2 get Neil 2night 4 practice and hes coming w us no matter what. ive waited long enough

Immediately, Matt begins typing back, and Kevin raises a single eyebrow at Andrew, smirking. “See? Told you. Just wait for it.”

**Matt** : 4 the record, i think u should stay out of neils business but y would u come here 2 pick him up?

Kevin rolls his eyes as he types back a response.

**Kevin** : bc hes been staying w u

 **Matt** : uh what?

Kevin freezes, his brow creasing. Andrew smashes his cigarette into the windowsill and leaves the room without another word.

He starts down the stairway and out towards the parking lot as his phone continues to vibrate, responses coming in quickly now. He’ll start with the surrounding campus and see if Neil has picked a spot before making his way out towards the town. He must have established some kind of routine by now, something that will help Andrew be able to find him. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Of course, Neil would simply go underground if he was having problems. Of course, he wouldn’t want to “burden” anyone else with his troubles.

When he drops into the driver’s seat, he rechecks his phone. 

**Nicky** : neil hasnt been staying here, kev. r u saying he hasnt been sleeping in ur room?

 **Kevin** : …yes

 **Aaron** : who tf cares

 **Nicky** : aaron!!

 **Matt** : shit srsly? maybe hes staying with 1 of the sophomores? or wymack?

 **Nicky** : hold on ill text jess

 **Kevin** : ill call wymack

Andrew starts his car and pulls out of the lot. He begins at the other end of campus, where the college backs up to a small woodland area. Perhaps Neil has made some kind of faux shelter there. 

He’s just pulled in when his phone pings again. 

**Nicky** : shit jess says he hasnt stayed w any of them. should we b looking 4 him?

 **Matt** : u think he might have ran again?

 **Aaron** : of course he fucking ran

 **Kevin** : wymack knows where he is

 **Matt:** oh thank god

Immediately Andrew parks and starts typing. 

**Andrew** : where is he

He watches three dots appear as Kevin starts typing back. 

**Kevin:** coach says he gave neil the weekend off. sent him somewhere safe

A frustrated noise escapes Andrew’s throat. 

**Andrew:** was i not clear, kev? i said WHERE IS HE

 **Kevin:** shit andrew idk. Wymack wouldnt say. where the hell r u anyway?

That’s it. He’s not dealing with Day’s incompetence any longer. He’s going straight to the source.

His phone continues to ping from where he throws it down on the seat beside him, but he ignores it. He’s got the information he needs.

Speeding over to Wymack’s place, he checks once to make sure his coach’s car is parked in the lot. Within minutes, he’s picking the lock on Wymack’s door and slamming it open. 

“Where is he?” Andrew asks without preamble, striding into the room. 

Wymack stares at him from the kitchen table, slurping a spaghetti noodle inside his mouth. “Andrew. What a surprise. Come on in.”

“You said I could speak with him after!” And only now does Andrew realize how pissed he is. How this feels like a betrayal, a broken promise, his trust compromised. (Even though another part of him realizes how ridiculous he’s being.)

“He ran off before I could stop him,” Wymack sighs. “You know how Josten gets sometimes. One-track mind.” He takes another forkful and chews. “I just got back from checking that he made it there safely. Tired of that kid becoming someone’s punching bag on my watch,” he grumbles. “I was going to call you, but Kevin beat me to it.”

Andrew scowls, looking down at his coach’s pathetic dinner of cold spaghetti. He understands, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to give him any quarter. “Then tell me where he went.”

“Only if you tell me what’s going on first,” Wymack doesn’t bat an eyelash.

“What makes you think I have something to do with it?”

Wymack just stares at him. “The kid only likes two things in life, and he just ran away from both of them.” He raises an eyebrow. “And I know for a fact it has nothing to do with Exy.” 

For some stupid reason, the blunt, obvious tone he uses is enough to make Andrew’s ears flush. It’s aggravating, and Andrew kicks Wymack’s chair leg in retaliation.

Wymack sighs and drags a hand through his hair before he pivots to look at Andrew head-on. “Okay, look at me right now, Andrew. Tell me - has he hurt you?”

The question completely knocks the wind out of Andrew’s sails. He stares at Wymack in disbelief for a full minute before he’s finally able to respond. “What…why would you think he hurt me?” The thought is ludicrous. Unfathomable. Everyone always assumes Andrew is the one to dish out pain. Why should his coach think any different? “If anything, wouldn’t you think I hurt him?”

Wymack tilts his head. “Did you?”

When Andrew sneers at him in return, Wymack nods his head. “That’s what I thought. So did Neil do something to you instead?”

“Neil would never hurt me,” Andrew says flippantly, the words spilling from his lips before he can reign them in. 

Wymack nods again. “Intentionally.”

 _Intentionally_.

The word punches a hole through Andrew’s gut, forcing him to suck in air. It sticks to the back of his throat as he tries to swallow it, over and over. It gathers at the corners of his eyes, hot and unshed.

Because Neil had hurt him. Which was shocking in and of itself. But apparently, he’d hurt Neil as well.

 _Unintentionally_. 

“He hasn’t been sleeping at the dorm,” Andrew confesses now because apparently, he can’t keep his mouth shut today. 

Wymack nods. “Yep, been sleeping in the lounge.” 

Andrew’s eyes snap to his. “Night practice,” is all he says. 

Wymack shakes his head, understanding perfectly. “He’s been waiting until after you guys are done. Has an eerily sixth sense about it. Caught him on the security tapes a few nights after the first time.” 

“I didn’t know.”

“He didn’t want anyone to. Figured that out pretty quick. He almost swallowed his tongue when I told him I knew.”

Of course he didn’t want anyone to know. He’s having a mental breakdown in the middle of a fight with Andrew, and still, Neil keeps his mouth shut. Andrew can’t tell which he feels more of: pleased that Neil kept their business private or pissed that he’s such a martyr that he chose to be homeless over invading Andrew’s space. 

Nope, scratch that. He’s definitely pissed. 

Because it’s _their_ space. 

“I need to talk to him.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s an idiot, and I need to spell it out for him.”

Wymack glares at Andrew when he doesn’t provide any further explanation. “Is this actually going to help?”

It has to, Andrew thinks. Because if it doesn’t, then he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

“It has to,” he says out loud now, for Wymack’s benefit. 

His coach considers him in silence. Then his eyes soften, and he nods once. 

Andrew looks away, seeing far too much understanding in that simple gesture. “I’m going to go pro,” he says suddenly to distract them both. “So stop fucking talking to my professors. I don’t need a stupid internship.”

“When did you-” Wymack’s head reels before he shakes it. “I’ll start letting recruiters know. They’ve been sniffing at my door for months now, wondering if you were interested. I’ve been fending ‘em off, but…” he shrugs. 

Andrew stares at him. They have? He had no idea. But why… “Why would you do that?”

“Wanted you to make the decision on your own. I know both Kevin and Neil want you to, but their…situation is a bit different than yours.” Wymack curls his lips around the word _situation_ distastefully, as if he can somehow spit the bitterness of the yakuza out and get rid of it once and for all. “You have a choice. If it isn’t what you want, then we’ll figure out something else.”

 _We_ , Wymack says, as if it was a game plan. As if he and Andrew had talked, were in this together _. What you want_ , he says, as if it matters. As if it’s a given that Andrew has a choice and gets to decide. 

God, he hates him. Almost as much as he hates Neil. 

“Stop interfering,” he snaps. 

“Stop being so goddamn talented,” Wymack returns, “so I don’t have to waste my time on this shit. It’s fucking annoying.”

And Andrew’s mouth twitches despite himself. “I’m going to play stupid Exy, and you can’t stop me.”

“Thank Christ,” Wymack breathes a sigh of relief. “I mean, it would have been a real damn shame, Andrew, can’t lie. Now maybe Kevin will finally get off my back.”

“Didn’t say I was telling Kevin.”

“You fucking animal.”

Then Wymack takes something from his pocket and tosses it at Andrew. 

It’s a hotel key card. 

Wymack smirks. “Go get him, kid.”

\---

The door isn’t silent when Andrew opens it, but it doesn’t seem to matter because Neil doesn’t move. Which only goes to prove how truly exhausted he must be.

Andrew steps quietly inside and stares down at him. Neil’s breaths are shallow and even, the dark shadows under his eyes still visible in the fading light. He’s vulnerable here, and the instinct to protect rises almost involuntarily in Andrew. 

He fights the need to go over and sink his hands into Neil’s hair, turning instead towards the balcony door. He props it open before grabbing the room service menu from the table. Taking a glance at the clock, he estimates before going onto the balcony and placing an order. Then he drags a chair into the doorway and settles down to wait. 

The sun has set, and the first stars have appeared in the sky before he hears Neil stir. “Andrew?”

Neil flips the switch on the lamp next to the bed, flooding the room with a soft light. Suddenly Andrew can see that the covers have slipped down Neil’s body to reveal he’s wearing next to nothing in bed. Shadows dance across hard muscles and slender ribs as Andrew stares, entranced. 

“He’s alive,” he murmurs, not quite able to pull his gaze from Neil’s body. 

Neil’s own gaze grows hot and heavy. He shivers once before he suddenly turns his head. He sits up and draws the covers to his chest, curling up protectively. Then he stares down at the end of the bed and asks, “What are you doing here?”

Andrew considers this before settling on the simplest explanation. “You asked a question. I owe you an answer.”

He’s figured this much out, even if he doesn’t quite understand what the question is yet. It’s evident from what Neil said, though, that this is what he’s waiting for- some kind of response.

Neil turns pale. 

Andrew stubs his cigarette out on the ashtray next to the door and stands. He walks to the bed and sits down next to Neil’s legs. Neil jerks his head up to meet Andrew’s gaze in surprise. Andrew stares calmly at him. “But before I do, I need to know why.” 

He has to be sure. He can’t make assumptions, not this time, not if he still has a chance to make this right. 

Neil’s brow furrows. 

“Why did you ask the question?”

A swarm of emotions crosses Neil’s face. Andrew waits, letting him pick through each one before Neil takes a shaky breath and finally starts talking.

“I don’t know what you want,” are the words that spill from his lips first, an admission that still has the power to stun Andrew. “I thought I did. Everything was fine, I was good with what we had. It was perfect. But then I realized, at Eden’s, that you don’t have my limitations. You’re attracted to other people. You could find someone else, someone better maybe than me. And then I realized I didn’t even know why you chose me. Or if you actually did- if I actually offered. I don’t know what you want, and it scares me.”

Scares him. Neil, who has been chased and tortured by the mafia, is scared because he doesn’t know what Andrew wants. 

“And you do?” he asks, a bit breathless himself. “Know what you want?”

“You, Andrew,” Neil whispers. “Always and only you.”

“And yet you’re the one who keeps saying no.” 

Neil pulls back a little, and Andrew sighs. He feels stupid bringing this up, letting Neil know this vulnerability, but Neil has to understand that it works both ways. That both of them have to want it. 

He turns his body away from Neil, unable to hold his gaze as he confesses into the dark room. “You’ve never actually said it. But you can say it, you know. Instead of not answering or coming up with excuses.”

Images of Neil pulling back from their kisses, unsure and confused, flash briefly through his mind. How he had ignored Andrew on a rooftop because he wasn’t sure where he stood. How he’d run from Andrew for weeks.

Neil’s mouth drops open as he finally gets what Andrew’s saying. “I didn’t mean- Andrew, I was just- I’m so-”

“If you fucking apologize, I will split your lip.” He will not listen to Neil apologize for rejecting him. That’s not the point. He would never ask for that. “I’ve told you before that you can say no. You don’t have to feel guilty for doing it. But want is a two-way street.”

He takes a breath and repeats in German, “ _I will wait and watch him walk away if that’s what he wants_. Why? Why did you run to everyone else on the team instead of asking me?” He shakes his head as all the annoying conversations scroll past his mind’s eye. “You drag Nicky into it, insinuate shit with Kevin, provoke my brother. You’ve never been a coward, Josten, so why start now?”

Neil squirms, averting his eyes. “I don’t know, I just…I didn’t know if I could ask.”

Didn’t know if he could…what? Why the hell wouldn’t he be able to ask him something?

He whips towards him now. “Of course you can ask me, Neil! Why the fuck wouldn’t you be able to ask?”

And now it’s Neil’s turn to angrily snap at him, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it was because you said that if two people have nothing, then they don’t have the right to! That they have no say over each other’s choices and shouldn’t even be bringing it up!”

The words trigger a memory. Andrew sorts through them until he remembers the movie night, the weird, halted conversation they’d had in their bedroom after. He’d thought it strange at the time, but now he gets what Neil was really asking. “Your jealous friend,” he says finally. 

“We are nothing, remember?” is Neil’s confirmation of this. “Not boyfriends, not partners. No relationship. _Nothing_.”

“So because I answered some stupid hypothetical scenario you brought up with zero fucking context, your brilliant idea was to avoid this whole thing into non-existence?” Andrew shoots back. 

Neil shifts, guilt apparent as he squirms. “I felt like I already knew the answer, and I didn’t want to hear you confirm it.”

Of course he didn’t. He just wanted to go around and ask everyone else under the sun instead. Irritation flares again as he scowls at Neil. “So you just ran with your assumptions. Typical fucking rabbit.”

He jumps up from the bed, unable to sit any longer. He’s now sorely tempted to lean over and shake some sense into that rattletrap Neil dares to call a brain. So he gets a safe distance away and starts pacing instead. 

“Let’s see if I can summarize what you think you know. To be clear, you think you somehow forced me into this,” his voice nearly vibrates with anger as he says the accusation out loud. “You think that I’m no longer attracted to you, that I’m only humoring you out of some weird _misplaced sense of guilt_ , and that the second someone more attractive than you crosses my path, I’m going to get rid of you. So I’m basically just using you at this point to get my rocks off until something better comes along. Is that it?”

Neil jumps up from beneath the covers, going to his knees and reaching a hand towards Andrew as he shouts, “No!” His eyes are wide, and he’s shaking his head violently.

Andrew steps back out of reach. Neil immediately retracts it. 

A wave of disgust rolls over Andrew, although he’s not sure if it’s directed at Neil or himself. 

Is that really what Neil thinks of him? 

“How dare you-” he starts, but Neil cuts him off within seconds. 

“No, Andrew. Stop. Look at me- this is my fault. I’m the one who expected more, who thought there was more than what we have.” His voice is breaking as he speaks, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes, but he doesn’t shed them. He just stares at Andrew head-on as he owns up. “You felt pressured. I told you about- about what I am, and how it’s only ever you, and you felt trapped. I should have asked. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m the one who’s been using you, who’s been thoughtless about all of this.” 

He swallows, staring miserably at Andrew as he says, “I’m sorry, Andrew. I’m so sorry.” 

The words hit Andrew hard, but not for the usual reason. For a moment, all he can do is stare back at Neil in return. 

Holy shit, they’re a pair of dumbasses.

It all makes sense now. Neil wasn’t saying _I never asked you to stay_. He was saying, _I never asked you the same question - whether you wanted to_. His real question had been, _do you want to stay with me? Yes or No?_

And Andrew hadn’t understood a freaking word. 

This is what they get for not communicating. Andrew, angry for thinking that Neil is tired of him, that he wants to end things while Neil is one of Andrew’s sole reasons for being. And Neil, thinking he’s asking for more than what he can have, feeling like he’s crossed a line and must be punished for it while he’s ready to give Andrew everything. 

How stupid can they be? 

“You are a fucking idiot,” Andrew informs him. Because someone has to say it. Then he drags a hand over his face and sighs. “We both are.”

They’re both morons. Andrew can’t even believe that they let it get this far. 

Neil still looks confused, though. He fidgets, clearing his throat as he says, “You said this is nothing, and I get it, Andrew. I’ve never asked for labels or weddings or houses with white-picket fences. Never expected it. I just-” and then he takes a deep breath before he rushes on, “-I just need to know that this is something that you want. That I’m something you want.” 

Andrew huffs out a breath, frustration oozing from his pores. How is it possible that Neil still doesn’t know?

_Because Neil doesn’t assume. He never takes what isn’t given._

And now there’s a weird fluttering in Andrew’s stomach that he has to crush out ruthlessly. 

“Want, want, want,” he mocks Neil now. “So this is only about what I want.” Not what Neil wants. Apparently, what Neil wants doesn’t matter. At least, it doesn’t to the rabbit. He tests his theory. “What if I want nothing?”

Neil freezes and then nods. Of course. His little martyr. 

He’s shutting down, closing off. Andrew can see it happening, so he rushes to add, “And if I want our nothing?”

Neil closes his eyes. His hands fist into the covers as he draws in a shuddering breath. He’s so sensitive, so reactive to just that one word that it enthralls Andrew. He’s unable to look away. His hands itch to hold him, run his hands along the edge of his jawline, settle on the back of his neck. 

“I’m fucked up,” Neil whispers, so low that Andrew almost doesn’t hear him. 

But he does, as well as the implication behind it, and his temper flares once more. “How convenient of you to forget that I have issues too. Or perhaps you thought that yours are greater than mine? Didn’t realize it was a pissing contest.”

“You deserve-”

“Shut up!” Andrew snaps. 

Neil immediately shuts up. 

Andrew runs a hand tiredly through his hair. It’s time to clear things up once and for all. “Everyone needs to stop telling me what I do and don’t deserve. Because if we were given what we deserved, Neil, then I would have never got to meet you.”

Andrew’s words stun Neil into silence. His mouth is slightly ajar as he stares back at Andrew.

“You said you weren’t going to make decisions for me.”

Neil nods in agreement.

“So when I say that I want this-,” and here he pauses to motion between the two of them, “-you’re going to listen to me. And if you ever start twisting things in your head again, you’re going to ask me, and I’m going to tell you the truth.”

Neil nods again fervently, a corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. Tension is spilling from his shoulders, deep breaths of relief racking his frame. And Andrew knows that Neil is good now. That the admission of Andrew confirming ‘this’ will be enough to settle him for a while. 

But if anyone deserves more, it’s Neil. 

Andrew doesn’t want there to be any more mistakes. He wants no more misunderstandings when it comes to the two of them. Neil has had enough uncertainty and betrayal to last a lifetime. Andrew will not add to it. 

So he forces himself to sit back down on the bed next to him. He swallows, then looks Neil straight in the eye and says, “The answer is yes, Neil. I want this.” There’s only a slight bit of hesitation in his voice now as he confirms it, the words coming easier as he keeps talking. “I want this, want you, for as long as you want it. And because you’re an idiot, let me make it very clear that what you want is just as important to me as it is to you. Someone who walks by with a pretty face isn’t going to change that.” He leans in and grabs Neil’s chin in his hand, unable to stop himself from touching any longer. “Got it?” 

He waits for confirmation that his message is clear. Crystal clear. Transparently so. 

Clear like the cerulean blue of Neil’s eyes as he stares back in awe. “Okay,” he whispers, and Andrew watches him bite his lower lip to stop himself from smiling. “I want you too. Things were…I was confused before. About…us.” He pauses, dragging a hand over his face as he continues. “I always want you. I can’t seem to make myself stop wanting you, even if I try. Even in my dreams, I want you. It’s disgusting.”

A small tremor of panic starts in Andrew’s gut at the words. Swallowing quickly, he asks, “Disgusting? What do you mean?”

Neil’s face flushes. “A couple of weeks ago, I dreamed we were…together…in the bed at Columbia…and I actually…” He trails off as he flings his hand out. 

And Andrew thinks he gets it. But just to make sure…

“You had a wet dream about me?”

Neil’s face somehow blushes harder as he nods. “I just…wanted you so badly.”

Andrew’s mouth nearly drops open, he’s so stunned. He swallows, his throat suddenly very dry, and croaks out the words, “Why didn’t you say something?”

Neil’s nose wrinkles as he huffs. “Because I’m not- I wasn’t- it’s not appropriate,” he finally lands on. “And it doesn’t matter. What matters is how you feel. Whether you want it.” He stares into Andrew’s eyes as he fiercely assures him, “I won’t be like them, Andrew. I promise.”

The words are enough to nearly gut him. That someone would literally push off their own desire for Andrew’s sake? That’s – well, frankly, he would have said impossible.

Neil is nothing like them. 

“You’re not, Neil, not even close, so don’t say shit like that,” he whips out now in response because Neil has to know. “And it may not matter to you but-” he chokes and has to take another breath before he can continue, “-it matters to me that you want me. It…it makes me feel…good to know that you want me.” The words stick to the roof of his mouth so that it feels like he’s prying them from the crevices of his jaw. He nearly cringes at them, but he forces himself to keep going. “I thought- I had no idea that you even- ” He takes another deep breath. “I can’t always tell if you do.”

Neil winces at that in return, his eyes closing as he answers, “That’s…it’s probably because of my mother.”

Andrew stills. 

“When we were on the run, my mother…she…well, she thought it was too dangerous for us to get close to anyone. Not our neighbors, not the people she worked with, not any of the kids in my class. The risk was just too great. She would drum it into my head over and over, not to trust anyone. So the one time she caught this girl kissing me…she kind of went berserk.” 

Of course. Of course, Mary would take this from him. Neil had so little to begin with, and still, she managed to crush any bit of pleasure or hope he managed to find. He shakes his head at how something that should be so exciting, should be chock-full of awkwardness and curiosity and wonder, was ripped away from both of them. 

Neil shrugs. “Then…after that…if she ever caught me looking at anyone, she would…remind me.” He gives a small shudder before he continues, “I think…I think it messes with my head a little. I’ve wondered before if it’s one of the reasons why I like staring at you so much. Because you let me.”

_Christ. Fuck you, Mary._

He hopes she’s burning wherever she is for forcing him to explain to her son that being attracted to someone does not make him a horrible person. How she's twisted Neil into believing that being allowed to look at someone is a gift. 

Andrew does not shy away from Neil’s gaze when he clearly, slowly states, “I do not think you’re disgusting for looking at me or wanting me, Neil.” But he can’t make himself keep it, staring at the slim column of Neil's throat when he admits, “I like that you like it.”

A noise that sounds close to relief releases from Neil. He leans close, staring into Andrew’s eyes as he smiles. “You are the only one I’m interested in, Andrew. There’s no one else.” He swallows before he adds, “I’m proud to be yours. And I wouldn’t mind showing that you’re mine.”

 _I choose you_ , are the words Andrew hears unspoken. 

“Mine,” Andrew repeats softly, with wonder.

 _He’s taken_ , are the words he hears echoing in his head. He looks down at Neil’s hand. 

Slowly, Neil turns it over, opening his palm. 

“Can I?” Neil asks.

Andrew stares at it for a moment, startled at the amount of sheer desire that courses through his veins at the small, innocent touch offered. 

His hesitation has Neil’s face falling. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-”

“You can ask,” Andrew stops him quickly. He’s tripping over his own tongue to get the words out, feels his face flushing along with them as he says, “You’re the only one who can.”

Neil sucks in a breath. “Can I touch you now?”

Again, Andrew’s surprised at Neil’s restraint. That even now, he still doesn’t assume. 

He nods, offering his own hand in return. “Yes.” 

As soon as Neil’s fingers touch his, he knows he’s lost. There will be no coming back from this. Each line Neil crosses is a point of no return. Another addiction that just digs deeper and deeper into Andrew’s soul. He’ll never be able to kick it, can’t even imagine trying. 

“What else do you want?” he asks as Neil traces a finger maddeningly over his hand. He suddenly needs to know. “Ask me.”

Neil’s eyes widen. He swallows audibly. Then he fumbles out, “Can you tell me…did you and Kevin…?”

“Never,” Andrew answers easily and watches Neil nod offhandedly in return. Almost as if he knew it already and just wanted Andrew to confirm. 

“Were you…interested…in that runner at the gym? Or that fan who came out to your car?”

Andrew is floored for a moment. Treadmill guy? The stalker in their team workouts? Yeah, sure, he’s hot, but Andrew assumed everyone knew that treadmill guy was after Kevin. He _especially_ thought Neil knew. So all of that glaring at the gym? That was because he thought Andrew was checking out treadmill guy _right in front of_ Neil? And, Jesus, he thought Andrew was interested in Tyler as well?

No wonder he’s been acting this way.

“No, they were never…” he starts to explain before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. No. Not once.”

Neil shifts a little. “…and that guy at the party?”

“ _Fuck_ no. He said-” Andrew whips the words out angrily before reeling himself back in. That idiot was a total douchebag, but Andrew knows this is partly his fault. That Neil would have never thought twice about any of this if he hadn’t been a coward about how he felt. So he sucks in a breath and bites out, “He’s a fucking asshole, but…so am I. Boyd made sure to let me know exactly how it looked.” He looks up at Neil. “Neil, I rejected him. Immediately.”

Neil gives a half-shrug. “I know. Well, I know now because of Nicky and Aaron.” His knee bobs up and down for a moment. “And I shouldn't have assumed either. I never have before, but this time I stupidly thought…” He hesitates before barreling on, “…you were trying to make some kind of point about us, about how ‘we’ weren’t anything. How you could choose differently, whenever you want to.”

_Because I know she’s better than me. I know I don’t deserve her. I’m lucky to have her and know she could choose someone else whenever she feels like it._

Aaron’s words ring in his ears as soon as Neil finishes. But unlike Aaron, there is no one else telling Neil that he’s worth more.

So Andrew grabs Neil’s chin with his free hand, the movement automatically lifting Neil’s gaze back to his own as he says, “I may have a choice, Neil, but each time anyone asks, it will always be you.”

Neil’s eyes widen. 

And Andrew knows this is it. This is the moment. The point of no return. The part where either he trusts Bee and takes a leap or forever stays stuck in the moment. 

Neil sucks in a breath. “Just because I said-”

“No, Neil. You don’t understand.” He shakes his head and motions between them. “This was never supposed to happen. I should never have let it. It would have been so easy to root you out in the beginning, to rid myself of your dangerous smile and lying tongue when I still could.”

It was stupid and selfish of him, Andrew can admit now. Neil was this shiny spark of light in the dark that his fingers would chase just to feel the burn. He was mesmerized by him, entranced from the very first moment. 

Andrew was lost in Neil way before he realized he’d been found.

“But you were too tempting, a problem that I needed to solve. By the time I realized it, the damage was already done. I figured out long ago that this would not be a fight I won.”

Neil is frozen, drinking in every word. He trembles when Andrew draws Neil’s hand up to his mouth and brushes his lips across it. “And yet somehow this doesn’t feel like surrender.” He pulls Neil’s hand closer towards him as he kisses his knuckles. “Only with you does each breath, each second seem more tolerable.” He worships Neil’s hands, his fingers, like he’s always wanted to, his mouth pausing and caressing as he drops words between his kisses. “You are more. You are real. You are interesting, contradictory, insufferable; a constant surprise. You are not something that can be replaced.” He bites softly at the flesh of Neil’s palm before swiping his tongue over it. “You have devastated me, ruined me in all the best ways possible. And it will never be enough.”

It should be awful, the way the words flow from his mouth with such ease. Instead, they’re like a release, like a confession, though Andrew has never been religious. He feels his body growing lighter with each admission. 

He separates their hands for just a second so that he can place Neil’s on his chest, letting him feel the erratic, fluttering beat of his heart. “Nothing lasts forever. An irrefutable truth.” He takes a deep breath and whispers, “Because only death, Neil, can stop me from wanting you.”

Neil’s fingers twitch, a slight shiver racking his frame, but he remains silent, watching Andrew. 

“I shouldn’t get to keep you. I have no right to ask, but Neil…” And Andrew clasps Neil’s hand tighter against him, a small lick of fear crawling up his spine, but he forces himself to keep Neil’s gaze, “I want you to stay.”

And there it is. He’s said it. To Neil’s face. Out loud and in the middle of the room where they’re both now forced to face the words. 

Andrew Minyard wants something. He’s asking to keep something that he never once in his life thought he could have. That even now, he’s still not sure if he can – but he’s willing to try. If Neil will give him a chance. 

His heartbeat triples, trampling the inside of his ribcage, and he can hardly stand the silence, but he somehow forces himself to wait, watching Neil like a hawk. 

Neil has seemed to have stalled out. His mouth opens and closes several times. It’s enough to start worrying Andrew before he clears his throat and finally manages a gravelly whisper. “I will not leave you, Andrew. For as long as you want me to, I will stay.”

Relief surges through Andrew for a blinding moment. He takes in a sudden breath, unaware that he was holding it. 

Neil is staring at him, a ghost of a smile on his face as they let this thing between them fill the room. It’s achingly real with its acknowledgment, filling up all the cracks and spaces that Andrew hadn’t realized were there before. He somehow feels swallowed up by it and yet satisfied at the same time. 

He’s panting, his lungs burning, and he faintly recognizes the other sound in the room as the hard draw of Neil's breaths. There’s a light in Neil’s eyes that glows, feverishly bright as he drinks Andrew in. 

Andrew doesn’t want to let go of this connection between them. It’s blazing, so hot and real, that he almost thinks he can see it for a moment. 

Then the tension releases and Andrew is crashing hard. Distantly, he feels Neil drag his hand back into his lap. He begins drawing soothing patterns onto Andrew’s skin, and it’s enough to calm him, give him the leverage he needs to feel somewhat centered again. 

After enough time has passed, Neil cautiously clears his throat. “So…just to be clear…we’re…is this…exclusive?”

Oh. Right. Of course. “If you want it to be,” Andrew answers, then checks, “If you still want me.”

And is relieved when Neil immediately nods his head. “And it’s okay if I do…right? Want you?”

“Always,” he whispers. 

Neil’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he quotes, “Don’t ‘always’ me. It’s yes until it’s no.”

Andrew rolls his eyes, reaching out to pinch Neil’s nose. “286%,” he says as Neil laughs.

“Math doesn’t work that way,” Neil replies before letting an easy silence fall between them again. 

Andrew sighs, rubbing his free hand over one of his armbands. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t ask.” 

He hesitates a little over the word. It’s like picking at a scab, the way the skin pulls and tears a little at the wound beneath. But Neil makes a soft sound, something soothing and warm that smooths it back down, unwilling to cause Andrew any more pain. 

Andrew closes his eyes against the rush of warmth enveloping him, unable to bear seeing it on Neil’s face. Instead, he leans forward until their foreheads meet. He hears the rushed intake of Neil’s breath. 

“I never meant to hurt you,” he whispers.

“Me either,” Neil whispers back. 

He waits for bitterness or anger to appear now that he’s confessed, sure that such weakness will undo him. But neither emerges. Instead, he feels light. Safe. He feels…good. 

So good, in fact, that he thinks he might be able to open up a little further. This is okay. He can do this if it’s Neil. Only for Neil. 

He thinks of Bee and pushes himself, taking another step while he still can. “It’s not easy sometimes,” he starts, just a whisper. 

“What isn’t?” Neil asks, his voice soft as well.

He tries to explain, hopes Neil will understand. “Talking. Words. They’re slippery. Dangerous.” He pauses, before continuing hoarsely, “And sometimes they’re not enough.” His throat starts to close as he thinks of words that are triggers, that begged for things to stop that should have never started. He thinks of giving words to someone and not having it be enough. Of words not matching what people did. 

He doesn’t usually bother himself with them. Words are a tool to be used when necessary, but they don’t reveal what is at the core of him. Andrew does what he says he’ll do. He acts even when he doesn’t have the words to speak. He won’t let the traps of language trip him up from doing what he needs to. 

But he should have remembered how Neil lives for them. How he scrapes and borrows and begs for them, holding them close to him and stashing them away like a squirrel stores nuts for the winter. Like how he used to hide his binder at the bottom of his duffel bag inside of his safe. Something valuable buried beneath layers upon layers. 

Andrew realizes he has taken for granted how much Neil understands him, how Neil takes the small number of words Andrew gives him and treasures them. 

He wants to give him more, but he can’t now, his tongue too heavy and pushed beyond what he can concede. But Neil knows. He does. And he proves it by stopping Andrew now. 

“I understand,” he breathes, smiling. “I should have before, but I get it now. I’m only interested in whatever you’re willing to give, Drew. Nothing more.”

Andrew’s breath catches in his throat before he sighs. Of course, Neil gets it. 

He slides his hand up to Neil's cheek, breath catching again as Neil leans into it. 

“Neil,” he says softly, uttering the only word he has left and watching the other man’s eyes flare. 

“Yes,” Neil confirms, and there’s no hesitation to his tone. Not this time. 

So Andrew grabs hold of him with both hands and gives in to what he’s been wanting to do for weeks.

He kisses him. 

It feels like coming home. Neil sighs into the gentleness of it, opening up like a flower in a rainstorm, his mouth greedily accepting everything Andrew gives. It’s addicting, and Andrew can’t help himself from silently asking for _more, more_ as their lips meet again and again. He wants to lean Neil back, push him into the covers and climb over him. He wants to crush their hips together, let Neil score his fingernails down Andrew’s back. He wants to run his hands over Neil’s scars on his face, his arms, his chest, push his lean thighs apart, feel his gasp as he takes him into his mouth. Watch him shake as he falls apart on Andrew’s tongue. 

He _wants_ , and _wants_ , and _wants_ and doesn’t feel bad for wanting it. 

He leans back to take a breath and is stupidly proud to see how dazed Neil already is, his lips swollen and head falling back. His eyes are slits as he curls his hands into the front of Andrew’s shirt, pulling him forward again. “Andrew,” he hums, a soft plea, leaning back towards him. 

And then the door knocks. 

Both of them instantly break apart, Andrew nearly jumping out of his skin as a cheerful voice rings out, “Room Service!”

He may kill them.

He walks over to the door and rips it open. A bright young girl stands there, holding a tray of food in her arms. “Good evening, sir! You ordered-”

She cuts off, shocked when Andrew yanks the tray from her, grabbing a ten from his pocket and thrusting it her way. Warily, she takes it and obeys when he makes a shooing motion at her. 

He turns back into the room, and Neil immediately perks up. His stomach growls, making his face grow red, and Andrew confirms what he has suspected all along. He sets the tray down on the bed and watches Neil’s eyes flit back and forth between his lips and the tray. 

“Eat first,” Andrew commands, making the decision easy for him. When Neil starts to pout, he slides his fingers into his hair and kisses him swiftly. “Then we’ll play.” 

“Promise?” Neil asks slyly. 

“I never lie.” He licks his lips to capture the taste of Neil and feels his lips quirk as the younger man stares. “Now hurry up.” 

Neil digs in, grabbing a fork and chatting lightly with Andrew, teasing him about Wymack and hotel bills and things that really don’t matter. Andrew lets him, enjoying the sound of Neil’s voice once more. 

He’s even more pleased when Neil slowly grabs his hand, threading their fingers together, as if he can’t bear the thought of not touching Andrew now. Which Andrew understands perfectly because he feels the same. There’s nothing that could separate him from Neil’s side right now. 

It will be much later when Andrew has made sure Neil is satisfied (in all regards) that Neil brings up the one topic Andrew never wants to talk about in bed: his brother. 

“He kicked my ass in the math quad, figuratively,” Neil quirks his mouth amusedly. He's lying naked on top of the sheets, his bare ass a much bigger distraction than Andrew thinks he realizes. “Gave me shit for not trusting you.” Neil pauses before frowning. “Pissed me off because he was right.”

Andrew huffs out a breath, drawing a line slowly up the back of Neil's thigh. “Asshole is too smart for his own good.”

“He said…” and here Neil pauses for a moment, “…he said he wants you to be safe.”

Andrew’s lungs seize. His finger freezes on Neil's leg.

_Doesn’t matter. He just needs to be safe._

His own words burn in the back of his mind as he stares at Neil, who continues, oblivious. “He says he trusts me not to hurt you.” He furrows his brow before turning to face Andrew. “What the hell do you think that was all about?”

_You should trust me._

_When you won’t do the same of me? About Katelyn?... You know nothing and yet still assume she will hurt me._

Andrew closes his eyes for a moment. “He was answering a question.”

Neil hums, taking this in. Then, like the infuriatingly clever brat he is, he asks, “And what was your reply?”

“That I didn’t care.”

“But you do.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?” 

“Because he has Katelyn,” Andrew snarls. “Because that’s who he has chosen. That is what he has decided his future will be.”

Neil watches him. He sits up slowly until he's seated right in front of Andrew. Then he says, “And if you give her your approval, then you feel like it’s giving up. That it’s the last straw tying the two of you together. That once you give your blessing, then you’re letting him go, forever.”

Andrew's hands fist in his lap. He glares off to the side but says nothing. 

He watches Neil worm a hand into his lap, forcing his fingers to unclench as Neil threads his own through them. He tugs a bit until Andrew meets his gaze once more.

Neil shrugs. “So choose them both.” 

Andrew stares at him. 

Neil tilts his head. “You know. Like you did to Kevin and me. Make her one of yours. That way, you gain both of them instead of losing one.”

Andrew stares at him some more. 

Then Neil has the audacity to wink, pointing to his brain with his index finger and saying cheekily, “Math. One of my strong suits.”

“You are the biggest idiot I have ever known,” Andrew growls, making Neil laugh. He snags an arm around Neil’s waist and drags him closer. 

Neil gasps before snuggling his nose closer to Andrew’s. “Round two?” he asks hopefully. 

Andrew rolls his eyes before diving his fingers back into Neil’s hair and kissing him senseless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, how are we here already?? Time has flown, y'all! Drink in that sweet, sweet reconciliation between our two faves and bask in the glory because you've earned it after following all this frustration and angst!
> 
> Just one more chapter to go! So glad all of you are still with me on this! Happy reading, lovies! 💖
> 
> Next Time:  
> When Andrew walks into the quad between the science wing and the med building, he sees Katelyn instantly. She’s sitting on the steps with some of the other cheerleaders, the group obviously eating their lunch together between classes. They’re laughing and chatting, ponytails high and smiles wide as they enjoy the break. 
> 
> They look friendly. Easygoing. Harmless. 
> 
> But Andrew knows better. 
> 
> After all, even the weakest of animals can be deadly in large numbers.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and Katelyn have what someone, somewhere might call a "chat". Then the team heads back to Eden's Twilight for fun and shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: Brief mention of porn (nothing explicit), and slightly uncomfortable sexual advances.

When Andrew walks into the quad between the science wing and the med building, he sees Katelyn instantly. She’s sitting on the steps with some of the other cheerleaders, the group obviously eating their lunch together between classes. They’re laughing and chatting, ponytails high and smiles wide, as they enjoy the break. 

They look friendly. Easygoing. Harmless. 

But Andrew knows better. 

After all, even the weakest of animals can be deadly in large numbers. 

As he gets closer, a few of them notice him, and he watches their faces light up with recognition and surprise. 

“Oh! Hey Kate, isn’t that your boyfriend?”

“What’s with all the black and leather?”

“Damn, and why does he suddenly seem so badass?”

“Mm, I think it’s yummy.” 

“You should get him to wear that more often, girl! It’s a good look on him.”

“Andrew,” Katelyn chokes on her sandwich when she finally looks up. 

The other ladies whip towards her in surprise before turning back to him. Suddenly, there’s hostility and wariness as they track his movements. The pride’s guard is up now, their claws extended as they eye the potential threat. 

Andrew approves.

He flicks Katelyn a single glance before he keeps walking. Immediately, she gets up and follows him. 

The pride tenses, hackles raised as they watch the pair go. Their silence is loud.

Andrew has never mistaken femininity for weakness. He knows they can be just as bloodthirsty, their teeth just as sharp. So while part of him wants to tug on their tails and purposefully lead Katelyn out of sight, he doesn’t. He stops at the other end of the stairs, keeping Katelyn in full view of her protective friends. 

But their presence won’t stop him from saying what he has to.

He whips around and begins. “You’re coming with us to Columbia on Friday.”

Katelyn’s eyes open wide in surprise, and he can see wariness enter her frame. Clearly, Aaron’s told her some of the stories. Andrew’s pleased by this and doesn’t bother to explain. “You’ll ride with Boyd.”

Katelyn’s brow furrows. She blinks once. Then she slowly nods.

He could tell her the reason for this is because he can’t fit six people in his car. He could say that Aaron will be riding with her. He could also let her know that the plan is to go over to Wymack’s first, where Renee will switch places with them and join the rest of the monsters in his car. 

But Andrew thinks the invite alone is charitable enough. She can get the play-by-play from Aaron later.

“We’re going to Eden’s Twilight - a gay bar.”

He puts it out there purposefully, waiting to see what ugly little opinions she’s hiding beneath that good girl veneer. Waiting to see how much of a homophobe she is in comparison to his brother. 

But Katelyn simply stares at him with a blank expression. When he remains silent, she realizes he’s waiting for an answer. A look of bewilderment crosses her face. Finally, she opens her mouth and says, “Okay. And…?”

Andrew stares at her for another moment. Then he says, “When I say it’s time to leave, we go. No excuses. If you’re not with us, you get left behind. Got it?”

Katelyn nods. 

“Friday. My room. 6 pm sharp.”

For the first time, there’s a hint of a smile around Katelyn’s mouth as she twines her hands together in front of her. “Okay,” she says again, but it’s softer this time.

Andrew narrows his eyes. “Do not mistake me. This does not mean you can start talking to me more often or that I want to hear anything you have to say.”

It’s not going to be that easy. Despite what Neil may think, Andrew’s not just going to let her in overnight. But he’ll also be damned if he’s going to let Aaron approve of Neil _and_ shovel talk him all in the same conversation while Andrew stands by and does nothing. 

Besides, it’s better to know thy enemy. And Andrew’s always appreciated the element of surprise.

He watches Katelyn nod her head fervently, none the wiser to the thoughts racing through his head.

Andrew huffs in response. He turns to go, glad that this chore is over and done with. 

But just as he takes a step away, she blurts out, “But I can keep walking with you? After class?”

He pauses. Then he glances over his shoulder and says, “Do what you want. I don’t care.”

And ignores the smile she beams at him as he walks away. 

\---

Andrew stares into the mirror in his bedroom and tugs at the sleeve of his shirt again. He fiddles with the cuff of his jeans, turns around to check the back before growing annoyed at himself. There’s no use in stalling any longer.

He whips open the door like he’s ripping off a band-aid. 

Everyone in the room turns towards him, and all noise dies off instantly. They’re staring at him, and Andrew stares defiantly back. 

He’s wearing green. 

Forest green, actually. Something dark and lush and promising. Green is safe. It’s relaxed. Balanced. There’s something vibrant to it that fills Andrew’s entire being with a feeling of wholeness, filling up the spaces that have always been dark and empty. It curls up along Andrew’s limbs like vines, shielding but not restricting him. It says _go, go, go_.

It’s no wonder that today's color is green as well. 

He’s in a good enough mood that the reactions he gets are actually somewhat amusing to him. Kevin’s brow is furrowed, and he keeps staring between Andrew and Aaron like he’s making sure he knows which twin he’s looking at. Neil is grinning from ear to ear, color blossoming on his face as surprise morphs into pleasure. Aaron seems highly confused and also curious but tries to act like he doesn’t care. Katelyn’s mouth drops open at first, but then it morphs into a slow smile as if she’s happy for him. (Whatever. Like he cares.)

Nicky, of course, is the one who ruins the whole thing. 

“OH MY GOD. Andrew!! Is that green?! An actual bonafide color? Are you finally past the emo stage? Holy shit, I never thought you’d stop wearing black. And are those blue jeans? And brown boots- damn, who are you?”

Andrew lets out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Did you put him up to this?” Nicky turns and looks at Neil. “Is this part of the ‘asking’ thing that you do? Because you should do it more often. Holy crap, you look amazing, Andrew. Stick by me, ‘cause I’ll bet you get some free shots tonight-”

His voice cuts off as a knife flies by his head and embeds itself in the wall. 

“Nicky,” Andrew says pleasantly. “Shut up.”

Nicky shuts up. 

Neil bounces forward and stops right in front of Andrew, repressed laughter dancing on his face. “Ready, Drew?” he murmurs, his eyes drinking him in, raking over his figure before coming back to smile into Andrew’s eyes. 

Andrew lifts a single eyebrow, which curiously already has Neil blushing. He’s going to have to explore that later. 

He jerks his head at the rest of the group loitering about in his room. “Come on.”

They head down to the parking lot and over to Andrew’s Maserati in relative silence. Katelyn sits on Aaron’s lap in the back seat, and Neil’s hand leans next to Andrew’s on the console until they pull into Wymack’s driveway. The others stay in the car while Andrew and Neil run up to fetch the upperclassmen.

As soon as they open the door, though, Wymack’s on them. “ _Andrew Joseph Minyard, get your ass in here_!”

Neil lifts an eyebrow at him. Andrew shrugs.

“Andrew!” Wymack bellows from the kitchen. “Explain to me why the fuck the Dean just called to ask me about some gay porn charges? On the hotel bill receipt, I just submitted?”

“Oh fuck,” Neil whispers.

Andrew shrugs. “Don’t be ashamed if that’s what you’re into, Coach!” He calls back. “Might want to let Abby know, though.”

He walks into the kitchen just as Matt and the girls burst into laughter. Neil’s face instantly reddens, and he buries it in his hands so he doesn’t have to look at anyone. Andrew stares at his coach unaffected. 

“No. You didn’t,” Matt howls, falling back in his chair as he shakes his head. 

“Wait, what?” Dan asks, her eyes tearing up from mirth. “Oh my god, Andrew! Why…?”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this explanation,” Allison grins, leaning forward excitedly in her seat. 

Wymack scowls and yells, “The rest of you, out of my kitchen! Now! Fucking menaces. Wait, not you, Renee.” He motions for Renee to remain as the rest of the upperclassmen complain loudly but grudgingly leave the room. “I’m gonna need you for this.”

Renee folds her hands on top of the table and smiles at them. “Hello, Andrew. Hello, Neil.”

Neil gives her a half-wave while Andrew settles for a nod. 

“Explain. Now Andrew.”

Andrew shrugs. “You ordered Neil to relax, Coach. So I made sure he did.”

It had mostly been a way to get back at Wymack, if he was honest. The moment he’d turned it on, Neil had been mortified. He couldn’t even look at the TV, and Andrew was forced to mute it before the situation wilted completely.

“You have got to be shitting me-” He watches Wymack’s face turn ruddy. “Of course that’s the only time the two of you listen.” And though Andrew can tell he’s embarrassed, he’s steeling his shoulders, probably feeling obligated to take the higher road in this situation. 

Good thing Andrew has no such restrictions. “It’s a sacrifice for the team I’m willing to make. May have to make it a weekly ritual to get the best results from your captain, though-”

“Shut up, Minyard. You owe me one,” Wymack says, pointing at him.

Andrew frowns. 

“I told you where Josten was hiding,” Wymack reminds him, ignoring Neil’s protest in the background. “And without that information, you wouldn’t even have gotten the chance to have your fun.”

Andrew shrugs. “Your mistake.”

“It’ll be yours too if I decide to drag you up in front of the board to explain.”

That sounds…highly annoying. And something Andrew doesn’t want to deal with.

Now he scowls. “So,” he says begrudgingly. “What do you want?”

Wymack smiles, satisfied. “I know what happens when this group gets together. And I don’t want to wake up to see you all on the news tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, Coach, you wound me,” Neil grins. “I wouldn’t let you find out like that. You’d definitely be my first call from jail.”

Renee hides a smile behind her hand. 

Wymack ignores them both. “So promise me that there will be no violence, no fights, no threatening anyone with those damn knives shoved up your sleeves tonight, got it?”

Andrew crosses his arms. “If someone attacks me, I’m not baring my throat for them.”

“Sure you don’t wanna be a lawyer?” Wymack mutters. “Fine. If someone attacks you- and I mean attack, Andrew, not spouts off useless shit in your face- then you have my permission to defend yourself.”

“Permission,” Andrew sneers. “I don’t need-”

“I’m calling Renee as my witness,” Wymack points at her. 

Andrew casts a black look in her direction, and she waves innocently. A smidgen of something sharp rises in his chest. “I always keep my promises.”

“Of course,” Wymack shrugs as if that’s a given. “But I’m building in extra protective measures.” He jerks a thumb in Renee’s direction. “Tonight, if the need arises, Renee will take care of your knives.”

Renee grins at Andrew.

He rolls his eyes at her. “It’s not like you would even know-”

“Got Roland’s number,” Wymack holds up his phone. 

Andrew stares at him. “How the hell-”

“Nicky.”

Of fucking course. Of course, his stupid ass cousin would give Wymack the phone number of the bartender who works at the only club they go to. “Thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“When you’re involved? Hell yes.” Wymack smirks. “I know you, Minyard.”

Andrew’s mouth twitches before he can help himself. Then he blinks when Wymack holds out his hand, fingers balled into a fist except for his pinky. “Swear on it?” he raises one eyebrow. 

Andrew stares at him, then down at the extended pinky in front of him. How ridiculous. Ridiculously stupid. 

Then he lifts his own hand, curls his pinky around Wymack’s, and solemnly shakes it. “I swear.”

Now Neil is the one whose chest is shaking, both hands covering his mouth to hide his silent laughter.

Wymack grins and takes his hand back, air leaving his lungs in a giant, relieved sigh. “Well then, kids. Have fun.”

\---

Andrew leans back in the booth, sipping at his whiskey and only listening with half an ear as Neil and the rest of the Foxes chatter. 

He feels strangely light tonight. A pleasant hum glows along his limbs, almost giving him the feeling of floating. There’s a small, shitty part of his brain that wants to prick a hole in it and let the whole thing deflate like a lead balloon, but he’s keeping it at bay for now. 

The alcohol helps with this.

So does the shy little smile Neil keeps throwing his way. The one that Andrew can’t help himself from smirking at in return. 

He’s enacting a little harmless retribution on Neil tonight. His own form of fun for hosting all the Foxes at his house. It’s not part of the bargain they exchanged- a month’s worth of any ice cream flavor he wants and three passes to excuse Neil from a Foxes’ Movie Night. It’s something that he’s trying on his own, something that will be just as frustrating for himself as it will be for Neil if all goes according to plan. He’d talked it over several times with Bee, and he thinks he’s ready. He feels like testing himself tonight. 

So he does. 

He starts off small – a hand on Neil’s lower back as he opens the club door for him. Immediately, he feels Neil’s awareness latch onto the contact, a slight bit of tension infusing his frame at the small touch. It almost has Andrew freezing up in return, but then Neil throws him a look over his shoulder. 

That’s when Andrew sees it. The flare in his eyes. The confirmation that this is good, if unexpected. 

So, with this small, positive signal, he continues. 

He snags Neil’s pinky as they slip through the crowd and thinks he can just hear the tiny little gasp that Neil quickly covers up. When he slides into the booth seat, Andrew follows him inside. This already has Neil blinking because he knows Andrew doesn’t like to be trapped, but then Andrew carefully shoves up against him so that they’re touching from their shoulders all the way down to their knees. 

He doesn’t feel Neil take a full breath until several minutes later. 

When Andrew finally dares to sneak a peek at Neil’s face, he can just start to see a small flush at the base of his neck. A light pink that has Andrew’s mouth watering. 

It pleases him immensely. 

When they get the first round of drinks, he again places his hand on Neil’s back to weave them through the crowd. Then he snags a finger in his belt loop to pull him up to the bar and thrusts his fingers into the curls at the base of Neil’s neck as he talks to Roland. It has Roland covering a grin at the way Neil is distracted, barely able to form coherent sentences as he orders their drinks. Andrew decides to take pity on him and carries the drink tray back over. 

When they’re stuffed inside the booth again, squeezed tightly together, he watches Neil struggle to take another deep breath, his thighs shifting restlessly. Andrew puts an elbow on the table, leans his head against his fist, then reaches out his hand towards Neil’s face. Neil stills as Andrew slowly runs his thumb along the edge of his jawline. 

He turns and meets Andrew’s gaze. They stare at one another, saying nothing.

“You’re both so whipped,” Allison’s stage-whisper startles them. 

They turn twin glares at her, and she cackles in response. “Oh man, I forgot how cute your homicidal rage looks are. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I missed them.” Then she lifts a brow. “By the way, Minyard – looking good.” She aims a smug smile at him. “I’m a damn genius.”

Andrew refuses to acknowledge her. Strictly speaking, he knows the shirt had been a gift from her. She had passed it on through Neil, and Andrew had stuffed it into the back of his closet, vowing it would never see the light of day. 

And technically, it’s night right now, so he still hasn’t broken that promise. 

“It does look good, doesn’t it?” Katelyn says brightly, probably trying to win brownie points with him. 

Andrew ignores her too. 

“So what’s the big occasion?” Allison continues, relentless. “Half-off ice cream sale? Successfully bury a body? Finally grow another half-inch? Celebrating your anniversary?”

Andrew doesn’t miss the way she notes them in order of possibility before he rolls his eyes. 

Aaron snorts. “They’d have to admit they’re a couple first before they can celebrate an anniversary.”

“Oh fuck that sideways,” Allison snaps at him in return. “They don’t need to be shit to celebrate whatever weird, quasi-platonic, sexually deviant, probably lethal situation this is.”

“Uh, guys,” Neil starts.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Nicky chimes in. “I feel like I have to go with Aaron on this one. Anniversaries are all about romance and acknowledging your other half. I mean, what, do the rest of you celebrate the first time you became friends with someone each year?”

“What exactly do you think we’re doing right now?” Dan huffs.

“Oh,” Nicky blinks. 

“Technically, the definition of an anniversary is an annual recurrence of a notable event,” Kevin pipes up. “So Neil and Andrew could literally choose any moment from their time together and deem it worthwhile of celebrating- like the first time they met, for example.”

“You mean when Andrew plowed a racquet into Neil’s stomach to stop him from running?” Matt asks dryly. 

Kevin grins and says, “Well, at least we know it was memorable for Neil.”

“Fuck off,” Neil mutters, annoyed.

“Ha! Like Andrew will ever forget?” Matt lifts an eyebrow and stares at him. “What do you want to bet he fell for him right then?”

Kevin snorts. “Don’t even bother. You weren't there. You didn’t see his face - _both_ of their faces.”

“We’re literally sitting right here,” Neil snaps. 

“We know,” Matt shrugs before he and Kevin fist bump. 

Andrew flips them both off before kicking Kevin under the table. 

“Wait, I haven’t heard this one,” Allison demands, snapping her fingers at Kevin. “Spill. Now.”

Katelyn and Nicky lean forward eagerly as well. 

With the table's full attention on him, Kevin launches into the tale of Andrew and Neil's first meeting with much greater enthusiasm than Andrew was expecting. He leans back in the booth, scowling his displeasure.

Then he feels a tap on his knee. 

Andrew looks down to see Neil’s hand hovering above it. It’s the first move Neil’s made all night, and even now, he can’t seem to meet Andrew’s eye while doing it. His face is serene as he looks out across the table, a mask as he pretends to be enraptured with whatever version of the story Kevin’s spinning.

Neil taps his finger again. Once, twice. Then he draws on Andrew’s knee with it, and Andrew recognizes the symbol. A question mark. 

_Yes or no?_

Neil lays his hand down flat on his own leg, palm up, withdrawing to receive the answer. Andrew refuses to address the warmth blooming inside of him. He casts his gaze out on the dance floor as he takes his finger and draws a small “y” in the middle of Neil’s palm in response.

Neil stills. He waits another moment, as if afraid that Andrew is suddenly going to change his mind. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he puts a hand on the inside of Andrew’s knee. 

Andrew looks down at it. Then he grabs Neil’s hand and slides it all the way up to the inside of his thigh. Neil sucks in a breath before he starts blushing furiously. 

That’s when Kevin mutters something at him in French. 

The rest of the group has clearly moved past them in the conversation, the other Foxes talking and chattering amongst themselves again as Kevin gives Neil a very pointed glare.

Neil shoots him a narrowed-eye glance in return and grumbles something back in French. Then, he follows up in English, “How many of those are you on, anyway?”

Kevin pouts as he stares at the glass. “It’s only my second.”

“After how many shots?”

“Shots shouldn’t count as one! I’ll bet two shots equal a single drink!”

“Kevin,” Neil says threateningly. 

Kevin hangs his head. “Four,” he finally grumbles. 

“We agreed the cap was eight,” Neil says in his captain’s tone. “So choose your next two drinks wisely.”

Kevin flips him off, but he puts down the shot he was about to take.

“ _Wait, why isn’t Kevin drinking_?” Nicky asks in German.

“ _Because he’s determined to be even less fun than he is now_ ,” Aaron drawls. 

“ _Because someone figured out that Kevin’s the main cause of vodka shortages in South Carolina_ ,” Andrew chips in unhelpfully. 

“ _Because he knows he has a problem, and asked for help_ ,” Neil says simply, giving them all a stern look. 

“What the hell are you guys saying?” Kevin snaps.

“Oh, you don’t know, Kev?” Andrew asks before taking a long sip of his whiskey. “Learn German then.”

Kevin scowls. 

Andrew takes pity on him and changes the subject. “Maybe we were talking about the way Jeremy Knox, a top-ranked NCAA striker, ‘accidentally’ fell into you the last time we were there.”

Hmm, perhaps _pity_ wasn’t the right word. 

“Damn, that’s right!” Nicky latches onto the topic. “That boy was all over you, Kev! He literally pulled out all the stops. Tell me you used a Trojan on that Trojan!”

Kevin’s mouth drops open. “What, no- he didn’t- I- he was just being friendly!”

“Right. ‘Friendly,’” Matt laughs as he puts air quotes around the words. “Tell me, babe, if I crushed my ass into you after blatantly tripping myself, what would you think?”

Dan grins. “I’d think you’d want me to take that ass, bend you over, and-”

Her answer becomes muffled as Kevin slaps a hand over her mouth, his face bright red. “I- he- what-”

“Well, at least now we know why he hasn’t done anything about that stalker at the gym,” Aaron rolls his eyes. “Because he’s clueless.”

Neil’s eyebrows wing up as he snaps his head towards Andrew. 

Andrew smirks. 

“Wait, what? What stalker?” Kevin asks, confused.

“Damn it, Aaron!” Matt groans. “I was literally one week away from winning that bet!”

“Don’t despair yet, Boyd,” Andrew responds. He raises a brow challengingly at Kevin. “After all, even if he does figure it out, it’s not like Kevin’s going to do anything about it.”

"Jeremy or Hot Treadmill Guy?" Nicky points out.

"Either of them," Andrew says dryly. 

“Hey!" Kevin starts, indignant. "That’s not true. I would-”

“Jacking off to Jeremy’s USC poster doesn’t count, Kev.”

Kevin blushes from his neck all the way up to the roots of his hairline. He glares at Andrew for a moment before snapping at Neil, “ _J’espère qu’il s’étouffera avec ta bite_.”

Neil coughs before blushing furiously. 

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Andrew demands. 

“Oh, you don’t know?” Kevin asks before shrugging. “Learn French then, you bastard.” 

Andrew narrows his eyes at him. Oh, he’s going to learn French, all right. And then he’s not going to tell Day until he can use it against him at the worst possible moment... 

“Andrew!” Nicky whines at him suddenly. “We need more drinks!”

Andrew flicks a bored glance at him. “So go grab some then.”

“But the cute bartender doesn’t like me nearly as much as he does short blondes,” Nicky winks at him.

Andrew rolls his eyes. Lazy asses. He ducks under the table, popping out on the other side. Then he snags the empty tray before heading back down to the bar. 

“Full house, tonight?” Roland nods at the crowded table. 

Andrew shrugs, leaning casually up against the counter. 

“Nice when family gets together,” Roland muses, whipping together drinks and loading up the tray fast and furious. He chuckles as Andrew catches Neil staring and rolls his shoulders in response. Neil swallows and blushes again. “Or are you just playing along so you can still have your midnight snack?”

Andrew merely lifts a brow at him, which has Roland laughing harder.

“Wow,” says a loud voice next to him. “Damn, you’re hot.”

Andrew’s brow furrows as he turns his head. The guy sitting on a barstool next to him is an average-sized brunette - non-descript nice clothes, long legs, slightly tipsy. He claps a hand over his mouth as if he hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. “I didn’t mean- it’s just- like I said. Wow. Those shoulders? And those thighs? You definitely work out, don’t you?” 

Andrew nods, a bit amused at this conversation, but the look he signals Roland is a clear _hurry the fuck up._ He wants to get back to Neil. 

After all, he’s already turned down a few guys tonight. Some amiably, others leading to the unfortunate loss of his knives by one, Renee Walker. Damn it all.

“No wonder you’re getting some action then,” the guy leans closer, nodding at the hickeys Neil placed on Andrew’s neck earlier today.

Andrew takes a step back and hisses, “Back off.”

The guy retreats instantly, hands innocently in the air. “Touchy, I get it. You’re picky about who you let near.” He grins then. “But let me tell you, I’d be worth it.”

“No,” Andrew says without blinking. “Not interested.”

“Oh, come on, you didn’t even give it a chance! Why don’t you take a minute to think about it?” 

“Dude, don’t press him,” Roland frowns, placing the last drinks on the tray. “He said no.”

“But he might change his mind…”

“No, I won’t,” Andrew says firmly, hefting the tray up in his arms before glaring at the guy. “Fuck off.”

Then he walks away. 

His refusal should be crystal clear at this point, but somehow the guy takes this as permission to follow. He continues talking at Andrew, wheedling and cajoling and generally not taking ‘no’ for an answer. 

So by the time Andrew reaches their table, he is thoroughly annoyed. He slams the drink tray down, spins on the guy, and snaps, “I told you to fuck off. I said I’m not interested.”

He doesn’t understand how the guy can still smile back at him. “Aww, don’t be like that, babe! Handsome guy like you, alone for the night? With those gorgeous eyes? Let me entertain you.”

Andrew makes a broad, sweeping gesture with his hand towards the Foxes. “What do you think they’re here for?”

“Different kind of entertainment,” the man winks at him. 

What the hell is with this guy? Is he on drugs? How much of an idiot can someone be?

Andrew nods purposefully at Neil. “No need. That’s his job.” 

The idiot makes a disbelieving face as he also motions at Neil. “That guy? He can’t take care of you the way I can, babe. Let me show you how a real man does it.”

_Oh, for the love of…_

Andrew drags a hand over his face before snagging two shot glasses from the drink tray and downing them. He does not have enough patience to deal with this tonight. 

Neil, for his part, is more bewildered than insulted. He holds his hands up, confused, as the rest of the table dissolves into laughter. Pure, unadulterated amusement shines on his teammate’s faces as they eat up the scene. 

Of course. Why did Andrew ever think any of them would be helpful?

Aaron seems to drive this point home with his question, “Can you please get him to shut up and go away?”

Right. Because he’s obviously been sitting here, egging the guy on. 

“What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing for the last five minutes?”

“Talking to your new man? The guy who’s gonna rock your world?” adds the unhelpful Romeo. 

Christ, he wants to punch him. 

“Andrew,” calls out a soft voice. Andrew turns towards it. Renee is staring serenely at him. “Remember the promise you gave Wymack earlier this evening?”

Like he could forget with her currently holding his knives. He sends her a blatant stare and knows when she smiles in return that she gets it. 

“Promise?” Kevin pipes up because, of course, he zeroes in on anything having to do with dear old daddy. “What promise?”

“Think it has something to do with the room bill Andrew ran up when he and Neil eloped to that hotel?” he hears Boyd stage-whisper, followed by a soft grunt caused by Dan’s elbow. She winks at Andrew conspiratorially. 

“That’s right! The hotel!” Allison repeats. He can almost see her sinking her claws into this tidbit of information as she recalls it, especially with the way Neil is now studiously avoiding her gaze. “Details. Now.” 

Andrew ignores her to stare back at Renee, who merely shrugs. “You gave your word. No violence.”

Andrew glares at her for another moment. Goddamnit, why the hell did he ever agree to this in the first place? Damn Wymack, damn Renee, and damn Nicky for even putting him in this position-

Wait, that’s right. Nicky. 

“This is all your fault,” he suddenly turns on his cousin. 

“What?” Nicky pales. He casts a furtive glance at Aaron. “I had no idea why he wanted Roland’s number!”

“You had no idea why our coach suddenly wanted the number of a bartender we visit every weekend?” Aaron returns, crossing his arms and echoing Andrew’s glare at him. 

“What? Maybe he wanted some chocolate booty all to himself. Who am I to judge?”

Kevin winces. “Can we not talk about my father getting booty around me? Ever?”

“Your daddy getting booty is the only reason you’re here, Kev,” Allison reminds him gleefully, poking him in the ribs and making him scowl. 

Andrew sighs before rubbing a hand over his face again. “I’m surrounded by idiots. I can’t take any more of this.”

“Mmm, I don’t know. You definitely look like the kind of guy who can take it,” the guy steps closer, his eyes oily and slick as they track over his body. “And I’m telling you, gorgeous, I can satisfy you all night long.”

Neil’s head snaps so fast at the ugly comment that Andrew is mildly surprised he doesn’t hear something crack. 

The rest of the table falls silent as they stare at the stranger, shocked. 

He’s surprised by the remark but recovers quickly. Enough is enough. He starts pushing up his sleeves to take care of the problem once and for all.

He vaguely hears Allison and Matt saying something to the guy, Allison’s remark scathing and Matt’s lightly threatening, but he focuses on Renee’s soft, “Andrew. You promised.”

He tries to ignore it. He really does.

But then his brother speaks up.

“No, go ahead, say it again, you punk ass bitch,” Aaron tries to stand, but Katelyn is immediately on him, yanking at his arm and digging her fingers into his sleeve. 

The reaction draws Neil’s attention, too, his hands drawn into fists and his jaw clenched. Andrew can tell he’s also fighting against the instinct to simply take out the threat before anyone gets hurt. They’re so similar sometimes that it makes Andrew's chest ache- both of them always more than ready to spill blood to protect what’s theirs. 

But Andrew had promised. And he’s not about to break it just because some asshole can’t seem to get the message. He stands there, his mind racing when the idea comes to him. 

It’s stupid. And juvenile. And wildly out of his or Neil’s usual comfort zone. But he thinks it’ll work.

And if pulling this dumb stunt keeps his brother out of jail? Then it’s worth it. (Probably.) 

He ignores the slight thrill in his lower gut as he calls Neil over.

Neil gives him a look, glances around the table, and then huffs. He stands up on the booth seat, then proceeds to walk across the table, dodging the low-hanging lamp and ignoring everyone’s squawking as they rush to grab their drinks before he knocks them over. Then he jumps down next to Andrew, completely ignoring the other guy standing there, and waits for Andrew’s next move. 

Though it’s neither the time nor the place for it, pleasure worms its way through Andrew’s limbs at the level of trust in the act. Neil came without question, without pause, just because Andrew asked. The nerve of him. He really is unreal sometimes. 

Andrew leans close to him and whispers, “Yes or no?”

Again, that flare. The trickle of excitement that Neil can’t hide as he whispers back, “Yes.”

Andrew nudges him to the side and hops up on the table as he gives the other guy his attention. “Here’s the deal, asshole. Apparently, you’re either a moron or have a serious problem with your hearing, so let me show you.” He grabs at Neil’s belt loops, shivering lightly when Neil offers no resistance to being pulled between Andrew’s legs. “The only one who’s satisfying me tonight is this idiot. So fuck off. Get it?”

Then he dismisses him, giving Neil his full attention. With one hand, he yanks hard on the front of Neil’s shirt, thrusts his other hand into his hair, and pulls him forward to kiss him. 

Neil gives a startled gasp as Andrew slides their lips together, but he surrenders himself willingly. They give and take, the fire between them sharp and hungry from the dance they’ve been doing all night. Andrew slides his other hand up to curl them both around Neil’s neck, dazedly pulling Neil closer, and Neil obeys, his own hands sliding into Andrew’s hair. 

Andrew startles only when he feels his back hit the table, the two of them crushed together and panting. Sight and sound come rushing back to him as he hears the Foxes losing their minds. Matt has both elbows on the table, face in his hands, and his mouth dropped open in delighted awe. Renee quirks an eyebrow at the pair, a bemused smirk on her face that nearly has Andrew flipping her off. Kevin simply rolls his eyes at them, holding his drinks aloft to stop them from spilling.

And finally, _finally_ , when Andrew looks, that asshole is gone.

Neil helps pull them both upright, his face and neck bright red before he plops himself into a chair someone’s grabbed. Andrew tilts his head, weighing the option in his mind before he hops down off the table and sits in Neil’s lap. 

The Foxes are stunned into silence. 

“Andrew?” Neil gulps, the question panicked and breathy. “Yes or no?”

Andrew rolls his eyes at him in return. “It’s a yes, Neil.” Then he glares at the rest of them. “You fuckers can get your own drinks for the rest of the night.”

Reynolds, of course, is the first to recover. “Now, this is the kind of reunion I expect from you dumb shits!”

“Holy shit,” Matt agrees. “That was amazing!”

Dan grins and grabs Matt’s hand. “Y’all are cute.”

“Hold on, wait a minute, this is something now, right?” Nicky leans forward and points a finger between him and Neil. “We can call it that?”

He looks positively thrilled. Which means Andrew’s going to hear about this for the next couple of weeks, he’s sure. But right now, he really doesn’t care.

“Call it whatever the fuck you want,” he snaps. “As long as it means I’m with Neil, I don’t give a shit.”

“Oh my god, Neil, breathe,” Dan cackles, amused as she looks at Neil. “Someone get this boy some water! Pull it together, Captain –your face literally matches your hair right now.”

Neil chokes a bit at that and makes an unintelligible sound. 

“God, you’re easy,” Andrew mutters to him. “And if you idiots don’t stop screaming, I’m taking Neil home and locking the rest of you out of the house.”

Katelyn immediately snorts at this, likely the only one at the table who doesn’t realize it’s a real threat. Andrew lifts an amused brow at her. 

But his attention quickly turns back to his cousin when Nicky gasps, “Andrew Joseph Minyard, you ungrateful wretch, you cannot sexile me out of my own house!”

“Watch me,” he replies flatly.

Nicky continues to protest, but Andrew only listens with half an ear. He focuses instead on the slow glide of Neil’s arms around his waist as he leans in. Andrew falls back against him easily, covering Neil’s hands with his own, comfortable in the knowledge that this is the most Neil will ask for tonight. 

When they get home, they’ll sleep in Andrew’s bed, but they won’t touch. Neil knows the rules, and alcohol doesn’t mix well with consent. Not that Neil would ever push- he always lets Andrew go entirely at his own pace, only taking whatever Andrew offers. 

For not the last time, Andrew shakes his head at what a pipedream Neil is- an absolute unicorn that Andrew never thought he’d find. He knows they're not perfect- that, in fact, they still have a long way to go, with many trials ahead. But Andrew thinks he gets it for once when Neil says he only swings for Andrew because there's no one else Andrew would trust enough to lean on. Andrew will always choose Neil, just like Neil chooses Andrew. They'll stand together, facing anything that life throws at them. And that's what matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, y'all. So...good news/bad news. I had to add another chapter because there's still another scene or two that I had planned for this epilogue that I was trying to cram into this last update, but it's just not quite ready yet and I REFUSE to post something crappy just to meet a deadline. Too much blood, sweat, and tears from all of us! 
> 
> So my sincere apologies and come hell or high water Friday, I will have the epilogue ready for you guys! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your wonderful, fantastic, insightful, and positively smashing comments! I hope you enjoyed this update and for real this time, promise....one last chapter to go! 💖
> 
> Next Time: 
> 
> Andrew’s eyes blink slowly as he hears the shower turn on in the ensuite of his bedroom. 
> 
> Neil must be back from his morning run then. 
> 
> It’s Sunday morning, and the rest of the upperclassmen have returned back to Palmetto. Aaron and Katelyn went with them, but Nicky and Kevin stayed behind. They’d gone out to Eden’s again last night and both were still sleeping off their hangovers judging from the silence in the rest of the house. 
> 
> Andrew rolls over onto his back. He’d had to use the bathroom as soon as Neil slipped out the door, barely managing to brush his teeth before staggering back into bed and falling asleep within moments. 
> 
> He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. 
> 
> Last night had been the first time he’d held Neil while they slept.


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slow, Sunday morning in Columbia between two of our faves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: As always, if sex scenes are not your thing, not a big deal at all, and please feel free to skip! But know that the majority of this chapter covers one. We starting getting into it after the line "It's too bad that Andrew likes a challenge" and don't stop until about the sentence "He smushes his face into the sheet." But there are some sweet moments sprinkled within and afterward. 
> 
> Also, I know some people are not a fan of Andrew bottoming, so please know that this also occurs in the following chapter, and to skip it if it's not something you're comfortable with/don't prefer. (Again, reference the sentences above to skip past). 
> 
> Otherwise- enjoy everyone! 😘😍💓👨❤️💋👨

Andrew’s eyes blink slowly as he hears the shower turn on in the ensuite of his bedroom.

Neil must be back from his morning run then.

It’s Sunday morning, and the rest of the upperclassmen have returned to Palmetto. Aaron and Katelyn went with them, but Nicky and Kevin decided to stay behind. They’d gone out to Eden’s again last night, and both were still sleeping off their hangovers, judging from the silence in the rest of the house. 

Andrew rolls over onto his back. He’d had to use the bathroom as soon as Neil slipped out the door, barely managing to brush his teeth before staggering back to bed and nodding off.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. 

Last night had been the first time he’d held Neil while they slept. 

All of it was new, so new to Andrew, but at the same time, it had felt natural. Neil had curled up with his back against Andrew’s chest, and Andrew had held him in his arms, feeling Neil’s breath slowly even out. In the cover of darkness, he’d been able to card his fingers through Neil’s hair and slowly stroke it as Neil slumbered. 

He’d barely slept, though, mind you. He’d been too aware of another person’s weight on the mattress to relax enough to try. But it was worth it in his mind to be the first to see Neil’s brilliant smile when he woke up in the crook of Andrew’s arm. 

Andrew hears the bathroom door creak and turns to see that same smile aimed at him from across the room. 

“Did you sleep a little while I was gone?” Neil asks as he starts towards the bed, a trace of worry in his tone. His curls are still damp, and he’s wearing nothing but a towel low on his hips. His skin is pink and flushed from the hot water. 

Andrew nods absently, watching droplets of water trail down Neil’s ribs, and licks his lips in response. He’s unable to pull his gaze from Neil’s torso as he asks, “Nicky?”

Neil drifts closer, a small swagger to his step. “Crashed. Stayed up late talking to Erik. Probably is going to want breakfast at like three this afternoon.”

“Kevin?”

Neil barks out a laugh. “Still snoring in Aaron’s bed. We could hold an Exy game outside his door, and he wouldn’t stir.”

He sidles up close to the bed, within reach of Andrew but not touching yet. 

Andrew hums. “Good,” he murmurs, giving Neil a long, slow look. It has Neil flushing deeper, his cheeks and chest turning a rosy pink. 

Then Andrew snags a corner of the towel and gives a sharp pull. Neil yelps as he falls forward onto the bed, Andrew simultaneously ridding him of the towel with the movement. Neil blinks up at Andrew as he rolls him onto his back and stares down smugly at him. 

“Think you can stay quiet enough not to wake them up?”

Neil snorts before slowly raising his legs until they hover near Andrew’s hips. When Andrew nods, he wraps them around his torso. “See if I care if they do,” he taunts. 

Andrew smirks at his false bravado. Neil would be mortified if anyone heard them. 

It’s too bad for him that Andrew likes a challenge.

He snags hold of Neil’s hands and draws them up over his head, crossing them at the wrists. He presses down lightly with one hand on them, watching Neil’s eyes flare. Then he leans down to mouth kisses up Neil’s neck. 

Neil takes a deep breath before releasing it on a sigh. 

Andrew rubs their cheeks together, feeling the scratchiness of day-old stubble on their faces before he pulls back to look down at Neil. Neil’s eyes are open, his pupils swallowing up his irises, showing Andrew everything in a single look. Andrew sips at the trust and vulnerability Neil offers like a fine wine, getting drunk and lightheaded from it. 

He leans down slowly again and swears he can feel it buzzing on Neil’s lips.

There’s something so safe and yet unknown about kissing Neil. Like taking the long road home when it’s dark and swallowed up by fog. He willingly gets lost in the haze, so sure of his destination that he doesn’t mind the wandering. His muscles relax, and his mind stretches like warm caramel until the only thing he can focus on is the taste of Neil’s mouth, the swell of his lips, the thrust of his tongue. 

One of them moans, and Andrew doesn’t examine it too closely in case it’s him.

The fingers of his free hand trail up Neil’s side lightly, feeling Neil’s shallow breaths swell beneath his fingertips. He strokes the skin soothingly, tracing over ribs and abs, delighting in the way the muscles coil and release beneath him. 

After another sharp nip, he surfaces like a diver coming up for air, and the way he’s panting should be mortifying except for the fact that Neil is just as wrecked. He lies beneath Andrew, hair mussed and loose-limbed, watching him from beneath heavy lids. He wets his swollen bottom lip with his tongue, and Andrew is briefly captivated. Then he lifts himself up. 

Neil protests softly, missing the contact. His chest arches to connect them once more.

Andrew takes the invitation, setting his lips to trail soft kisses over Neil’s torso. He nibbles over ridges, dips into valleys, licks his way across skin and muscle and bone until Neil is a quivering mess. He lazily journeys downwards until he can no longer continue without moving his hands. 

He presses down hard on Neil’s wrists, once, warning him. Neil understands immediately, digging his nails into palms to keep them in place while Andrew shoves his shoulders between Neil’s legs. They widen to accommodate him, and he hears Neil catch his breath when he begins nibbling along his inner thigh. 

“I want to blow you,” Andrew utters, his voice rough and deep. His thumb rubs the inside of Neil’s knee soothingly. 

Neil shivers before sighing, “Mm, yes.”

Andrew skims up Neil’s leg, tracing blunt nails across the sensitive skin until he meets the juncture between Neil’s legs. He cups his balls, rolling them lightly. Then he peppers kisses around the head of Neil’s dick. Neil starts to squirm, and he immediately grabs one of Neil’s hips to still him. He uses his tongue to circle the head of Neil’s cock in smooth, never-ending motions before he takes just the tip into his mouth and sucks lightly. 

A small squeak punctures the silence in the room. 

Andrew pulls off with a wet pop and raises an eyebrow at Neil while he starts stroking him. Neil’s eyes are wide, his mouth opening slightly as he gasps. 

“You have to be quiet, Neil, remember?” Andrew smirks, the admonishment more for Neil’s benefit than himself. He could give a shit if Neil’s screaming woke up the whole neighborhood. 

But the way Neil’s dick pulses in his hand and how his eyes flick momentarily to the locked door makes Andrew’s lips quirk. Neil nods frantically, clamping his own lips together as he makes a stubborn, determined face. 

Andrew’s going to love breaking him. 

He mouths up one side of Neil’s member and down the other before nibbling underneath the tip. Neil makes a frustrated, choking sound in response. Then, with agonizing slowness, he finally, finally, takes Neil fully into his mouth. 

He slides it in gradually, pushing Neil’s dick to the inside of one cheek and letting its sensitive tip rub up against the wet wall. He lavishes it with his tongue, getting it wet and slick. Then he begins sucking on it lightly, vaguely hearing Neil groan before he increases the pressure. 

Andrew loves the feel of Neil in his mouth. It’s become almost comforting, the way he knows it almost as well as his own. He knows all of Neil’s favorite spots – knows which actions will make him tremble and which will cause the loudest noises. He knows exactly what to do to get him to cum hard and fast or keep him on edge and drag it out forever. 

It’s this act of knowing someone that grounds him, that takes root in him like nothing and no one ever has before. And the way Neil reacts to the pleasure every time – that small note of wonder in his tone, the ever-grateful look to his eyes – it’s all enough to stun Andrew over and over. 

He goes back and forth between sucking deep and withdrawing, hearing the noises in the back of Neil’s throat grow more frantic with each cycle. It has his own cock stirring, the bulge straining uncomfortably against the confines of his underwear. 

He slides Neil’s dick back out until he can fit his hand around him comfortably and begins stroking him while bobbing his head, setting a gentle rhythm. He can see Neil’s muscles in his abdomen flexing, using all his willpower and control not to thrust his hips up into Andrew’s face. Andrew praises him silently in his head. 

But it doesn’t stop Neil’s legs from falling open. He spreads them wider, an invite that Andrew can’t refuse. He stops his ministrations, earning an exasperated whimper from Neil as he commands, “Lube.”

Neil shoots up like a rocket, twisting and ripping the bedside drawer open with little finesse. He tosses it down by Andrew’s hands faster than he can blink. Andrew picks up the bottle and notices absently it’s cherry-flavored.

He looks down at it before lifting his head back up to meet Neil’s eyes. “I want to-”

“-finger me?” Neil finishes breathlessly. “Yes, yes, yes.”

His tone is impatient, and it makes Andrew move all the slower as a punishment. Neil’s cock is flushed red, weeping pre-cum now as Andrew leisurely lifts the lube bottle, pours a small amount in his hand, and begins rubbing it between his fingers. 

“Andrew,” Neil whines, eyes locked on Andrew’s thick, shiny fingers. 

Andrew stares back at him and waits.

Neil is restless on the bed, hips shifting and lifting as he seeks any kind of relief. He mutters something unintelligible again before he clamps his eyes shut, finally huffs out a breath, and stills. 

“Good boy,” Andrew murmurs, noting the shiver that wracks Neil’s frame from the praise before he begins circling his finger around Neil’s hole. His body is soft and pliant, readily accepting Andrew with little resistance. He’s not surprised – after not touching for weeks, they’d both been rather demanding of late. So he circles it a couple of times before diving in with a deep thrust. 

Noise punches out of Neil’s throat at the shock of pleasure, but he’s too caught up in the sensation to register it. Andrew smirks but doesn’t point it out, setting himself to a rhythm once more.

He bends down and swirls the head of Neil’s cock with his tongue, reveling in the tiny shakes of Neil’s hips as his fingers find his prostate with each inward glide. Neil’s fingers are white, he’s clenching them together so hard, arms likely aching from the act of keeping them in place. Something coils tighter in Andrew to see him trying so hard to stay put, to be good for Andrew. 

Neil gasps as Andrew’s fingers scissor inside of him, the thick, long drag of the digits causing waves of pleasure to crash over him. Andrew continues the carnal torture without stopping, his hot mouth sucking and dipping, his fingers plunging and circling, and Neil’s hips fight to keep up with it all, heels digging into the mattress with each push and pull. 

Neil lets out a frustrated groan as Andrew swallows him whole, his nose brushing the hair surrounding Neil’s groin and sucking hard. 

“Drew!” Neil snaps, almost jackknifing off the bed as his eyes pop open wide. “Drew, Drew, I want-” he starts before he cuts himself off. 

Andrew withdraws. He stills until Neil’s feverish eyes can focus on him. “What do you want?”

Neil’s fighting for the words, his pink tongue slipping out to lick his bottom lip nervously. “I want to…will you…will you rim me?” he finally chokes out, face burning but hungry at the same time. He anxiously waits for Andrew’s response.

Andrew tilts his head. “Did you clean yourself? In the shower?”

Neil nods fervently. 

“Then yes.”

Andrew removes his fingers from Neil’s ass, and Neil immediately flips himself over onto his knees. His shoulders hit the bed as he leans back and spreads his cheeks shamelessly, his cock bobbing heavily between his legs. Andrew’s own cock throbs hard at the sight, and he has to swallow once before moving closer. 

He kneels behind him on the bed, his own hands replacing Neil's as he shifts closer. His thumbs dig into the muscles right under Neil's ass, earning him a gratified moan. Then he places one small, chaste kiss on one cheek before he dives right in. The taste of cherry and something quintessentially Neil fills his senses as he eats him out roughly, tongue licking and fucking as Neil’s thighs quiver. At first, Neil mumbles unintelligibly, but when Andrew wraps a rough hand around Neil’s dick and tugs, guttural cries are ripped from his throat. 

He grunts and begs, his hips rutting with every pull of Andrew’s hand and push of his tongue. He’s completely incoherent as Andrew pushes him harder, faster, his skin growing hot and slick with sweat as Andrew rims him mercilessly. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Neil suddenly pleads, as if he’s afraid Andrew will rip this away from him at any moment. Andrew’s not even sure if Neil knows he’s saying it, the way the words are so slurred. Something twists in Andrew’s chest at the desperate pleas, causing him to stutter before doubling his efforts with renewed vigor.

A flicker of movement catches Andrew’s eye, and he sees Neil’s hand floundering, reaching out blindly for him. Andrew catches it and interlaces their fingers, hearing Neil’s whimper of pleasure from the small gesture. 

His tongue is growing numb, and his back and neck are protesting from the position, but Andrew refuses to move when he can tell Neil is so close. “Drew-” he hears Neil chokes out. “Drew, I’m- I-”

He pumps Neil harder, eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head as he thrusts his tongue deeper inside when Neil suddenly shouts. His body spasms, cum shooting onto the sheets as his dick spurts again and again. Andrew doesn’t stop, continuing to lick and stroke him through the orgasm until Neil’s literally rocking his shaking hips away from Andrew’s mouth. He collapses forward onto the sheets with a helpless grunt.

A corner of Andrew’s mouth lifts as he gets up. Neil is slumped in the middle of the bed, and Andrew can still see small tremors in his thighs as waves of pleasure continue to run through him. 

He walks over to the bathroom and rinses out his mouth with some mouthwash. He washes his face for good measure, too, stalling just a bit to let them both have a minute. His dick is still hard, though, the erection pulsing in his boxer-briefs. He can tell without touching that he’s leaked a little, a tell-tale wet spot on the front of his underwear standing out in stark relief in the mirror. He grips the edge of the sink and tries to breathe through it, but it’s no use. After watching Neil fall apart like that? It’s not going away any time soon.

He could just take care of it himself, right now, right there, but…he doesn’t want to. 

He meets his hazel eyes in the mirror. He swallows. Then he steps back into the bedroom. 

Neil hasn’t moved from the position Andrew left him in. 

At first, Andrew thinks he might be asleep, but Neil turns his head to stare at him from across the room. He smiles softly, his hand barely lifting from the sheets. “Mmm, Drew.”

Heart thundering in his chest, Andrew crosses the room to lace his fingers with Neil’s. 

“God, Andrew, that was…”

Andrew holds his breath. 

“…that was fucking amazing,” Neil grins, eyes glowing. “God, I’m just- I literally can’t move. I’m never leaving this spot again. I live here now.”

Andrew snorts. “Idiot. Kevin will drag your ass out of this bed himself if you make us late for his precious Sunday night practice.”

Neil groans before his eyes shift downwards. He pauses as he notices Andrew’s hard-on. His eyes whip back up to meet Andrew’s. “You didn’t…?”

Andrew shakes his head. 

A slow smile starts to creep across Neil’s face. “Do you want me to…?”

Andrew’s jaw clenches. Then he nods his head. 

Neil’s eyes light up. “How?” he asks bluntly. 

Andrew breathes for a moment, looking into Neil’s brilliantly blue eyes, and lets the arousal flow back through him. “I want your mouth on me.” 

Neil grins before he rolls over, flopping onto his back. “Yes, good. Ditch the clothes then. But you’ll have to get up here because I’m not moving.” He flops a hand to the side and lets it bounce. “Boneless, remember?” 

Andrew rolls his eyes. Then he removes his sticky briefs and climbs up onto the bed. Neil reaches for him before pausing. He raises an eyebrow at Andrew, a silent question. 

Andrew nods. 

So Neil grabs onto his thighs, pulling him upwards and arranging him so that he’s straddling Neil’s chest. Andrew grabs onto the headboard as Neil slides down a bit until he’s lined up correctly. Then he winks once at Andrew before licking a long, fat stripe up his cock. It has Andrew’s dick twitching and the muscles in his stomach shaking before he controls himself. 

Neil lifts an eyebrow, amused. 

There’s a small challenge in his eyes as his gaze never leaves Andrew’s, his lips blindly mouthing along the length of Andrew’s cock until he gets to the tip. He kisses it once, then circles it with his tongue. Then he slowly begins sinking down on it. 

Andrew starts to breathe faster as he watches Neil’s cheeks hollow out, and an instant later, he feels the delicious pull of Neil sucking Andrew further into his mouth. It’s amazing as always, the way Neil’s mouth is so hot, how he licks his tongue up and down the length of Andrew, making the glide slow and agonizing. He begins bobbing his head, and Andrew loses himself in the rhythm of it. 

He remembers when Neil first tried blowing him – he’d been so overeager, he’d almost immediately caused himself to gag, swallowing Andrew with single-minded devotion. But after that first disastrous time, he’d been determined to get it right, insisting on trying again and again. And Andrew had been only too happy to comply. 

Now there are days when Andrew barely lasts when he slides his cock into Neil’s mouth, his stomach shaking and cum dripping onto Neil’s chin before he can even get his lips around him. Then there are days like today, where Andrew could go on forever watching Neil’s face flush, his lips shiny and slicked with spit, his mouth open and taking Andrew’s dick over and over. 

It takes longer than Andrew expects for Neil to tire. His brow begins to furrow, his face growing determined, but he can see the strain in Neil’s shoulders as he fights to hold his head up in place. Without thinking, Andrew cards his fingers through the curls at the base of Neil’s head, cradling it in his hand. Neil looks gratefully up at him as he lets Andrew take the weight of his head. Then he allows Andrew to guide him forward, Andrew thrusting slowly, carefully into Neil’s mouth. 

It’s not enough for Andrew to get off by any means, but the trust Neil gives him has him shaking. Neil keeps on going, refusing to stop, and Andrew’s almost frustrated by his own erection, wishing he could just cum so that Neil wouldn’t have to do this anymore.

They both last for a few more thrusts before Neil taps Andrew’s hip. Instantly he sits back, removing his cock from Neil’s mouth. “Are you okay?”

Neil nods. “Just need a breather. Hold on a sec.”

Andrew reaches beside them and grabs a pillow, shoving it under Neil’s head. Again, he gives Andrew another appreciative look as he relaxes his head back before biting his lip. He hesitates. 

“What is it?” Andrew asks.

Neil flushes, staring off to the side as he slides his fingers up and down Andrew’s thighs soothingly. “I just-” he stops again.

Andrew puts his fingers under Neil’s chin and drags his gaze back to him. “What do you want?”

Neil takes a shuddering breath. “I want you to fall apart,” he says honestly. “I want to give you the same pleasure you gave me. So I was thinking….” He licks his lips before he asks shyly, “Do you want me to finger you?”

Andrew thinks about it for a second. It’s been a while since they’ve done this, but no demons are knocking at his door today. He feels safe and warm and so frustratingly aroused that he’s leaning over to grab the lube again from the other side of the bed and dropping it into Neil’s hands before the word “yes” is fully out of his mouth. 

Neil blushes at Andrew’s blunt honesty before he pours some lube out into his palm, letting it warm up in his hand as he shoves his nose into Andrew’s happy trail and kisses the sensitive patch of skin where his hip meets his thigh. 

Andrew shivers. 

It would be so easy to reach down and start stroking himself, but he refuses to do so. He refuses to let himself get off except by Neil’s hands, his mouth, his everything today. He wants anything and everything Neil can give him. 

Neil’s fingers are soft and tracing as they curl up the back of his legs. They’re not exactly shy, but there is always a slight hesitation ingrained into Neil, and he looks up at Andrew one more time to confirm. 

Andrew runs his thumb over Neil’s lips, which immediately reacts by kissing the digit. “It’s a yes, Neil.”

Neil smiles before letting his head drop onto the pillow in a more comfortable position. He drags Andrew closer again and begins licking and nibbling at his dick, distracting him as his fingers slide into place. 

Andrew trembles at the first glide of Neil’s finger against his hole, but Neil doesn’t penetrate it immediately. He begins circling, round and round, then slicking his finger back and forth across it. It’s maddening, and Andrew doesn’t even realize he begins following Neil’s movements with his hips until Neil stills him with a cautious hand. 

He smirks, somehow, with Andrew’s dick down his throat before he finally pushes inside. 

The intrusion is not unfamiliar, but it always gives Andrew a little jolt at first. He sucks in a breath. 

Neil immediately freezes, his eyes wary as he holds Andrew’s gaze. He waits for Andrew’s shaky nod. Then he slowly starts circling inside Andrew, softly thrusting in and out, searching for his prostate. When he finds it, Andrew keens, a small, helpless noise pushing its way out of his throat before he can stop it. 

He watches Neil’s eyes light up at the sound.

Neil’s fingers immediately begin an assault on his sweet spot as he slides two fingers inside. He drives Andrew insane with the way he slides up against it, thrusts it, taps it, circles around it so that Andrew is literally grinding against the rhythm of Neil’s fingers on top of his chest. 

It’s so good that he nearly forgets about the way his dick is down Neil’s throat until Neil moans, and the buzzing sends a line of pleasure singing up his spine. 

His nails dig into the wood of the headboard, gripping them harder and harder as he struggles to keep control of himself. And yet, he can tell Neil is trying just as hard to make him lose it. To let himself fall mindlessly into the pleasure.

It’s when Neil has really got a rhythm going, when his fingers are thrusting, and his mouth is so hot and warm on his cock, that Andrew starts to feel his desire climbing and realizes he wants more. 

This time, he’s the one to tap Neil’s shoulder, and Neil leans back and looks up at him with concerned eyes. 

“I want you inside me,” Andrew bites out. 

Neil’s eyes widen before a delighted smile takes hold of his face. “Yes,” he blurts out immediately. He gently pushes on the inside of Andrew’s thigh, making him spread his legs wider as Neil shoves himself upwards until he’s sitting up against the headboard. Andrew merely lifts an eyebrow at how hard Neil’s dick is again, but Neil shrugs, unrepentant. 

He brings a handful of lube to it and begins stroking himself, getting it wet and slick, and Andrew can’t help adding his own hand in to join him. Together, they pull and tug at Neil’s cock until Neil’s breath is hitching, and he shoves both of their hands aside. “I’m not gonna last long if we keep that up,” he confesses before making grabby hands at Andrew’s thighs. 

Andrew moves forward slightly, grabbing the headboard again as he lowers himself down onto Neil’s lap. He concentrates on the scars on Neil’s face as Neil places his hands on his ass to guide him. Then the tip of Neil’s dick is catching on his hole, and Neil is guiding it inside, and there’s pressure and a slight burn before he’s slowly filling Andrew up. It has Andrew gritting his teeth as he lowers himself onto Neil, feeling his body slowly being invaded by choice. His choice. 

When Neil finally bottoms out, Andrew sitting flush in his lap, they both still for a moment. Andrew takes quick stock of himself. 

Neil is so thick and hot inside of him. He feels stuffed but not uncomfortable – there’s connection instead of anguish, pleasure instead of pain. And Neil is content to wait, giving Andrew as much time as he needs, ever patient and understanding as Andrew hovers silently over him.

His muscles relax gradually, the tension slowly leaving his body as he adjusts to Neil’s girth. When he finally feels like he can breathe again, Andrew rolls his hips once, experimentally.

Neil’s eyes nearly roll up into his head, his mouth dropping open as he lets out a hiss. “Shit, Drew. Do that again.”

Andrew does. 

“Oh my god!” Neil stares up in awe at Andrew. “Holy crap, Drew, you feel so good.” 

Andrew smirks at that, blatantly ignoring the small swell of pride that follows as he watches Neil’s face contort with pleasure. He focuses instead on raising himself slightly before thrusting down. 

They both let out a groan.

Andrew begins to ride Neil in earnest, setting the pace for them and keeping the reins firmly in his hands. They both know that when they do it like this, he needs to have control. Needs to be able to start and stop this whenever he wants to. But Neil is more than happy to let him, simply whispering encouragement and praise to Andrew along the way. 

Even now, his hands stay beside his hips, flat on the bed, since Andrew hasn’t permitted him to touch other than to lean forward and mouth his way up Andrew’s neck. 

“Do you feel good, Drew?” he whispers. 

Andrew bites down on his bottom lip, stopping himself at the last second from releasing a moan. His skin has a fine sheen of sweat on it now, the damp strands of his hair falling limply across his forehead as he continues his pace. But Neil continues to look up at him like he’s a work of art, something so beautiful and mesmerizing that he can do nothing but stare in wonder. 

Andrew is drowning in those blue eyes, has nowhere else to go when he finally pants, “Touch me.” 

Neil smiles. Then his hand sneaks down to clasp tightly onto Andrew’s dick and start stroking, and any last breath Andrew might have had is stolen from him. 

He picks up his rhythm, his thighs burning from the effort. He gasps slightly when Neil’s hips start to snap up to meet him, the angle just right to hit Andrew’s sweet spot every time. He can feel his orgasm building, can feel it growing in his lower gut though he tries to stave it off for just a little longer, riding the edge out for as long as he possibly can. 

If only Neil would stop talking.

“Yes, Drew, you’re doing so well. So hot and tight. You feel amazing.” Neil’s mouth never quits. “Take whatever you need. I want to see you flushed and cumming. You look so hot when you cum.”

“Shut up,” Andrew growls, but it’s weak. It pisses him off how much the words affect him. 

“You feel incredible,” Neil continues, hearing the way Andrew’s breath is hitching, feeling how his muscles shake, and his rhythm grows sloppy as he nears the end. “You’re so strong. So beautiful. I can’t wait to see you cum. Will you cum for me?”

Neil tugs him harder, quick sharp movements, rolling his thumb over the head of Andrew’s cock purposefully. He sucks a bruise into the base of Andrew’s neck, right over the heavy beat of his pulse, and Andrew is gone. 

He clamps down on Neil as the orgasm roars through him, shouting as he cums onto his stomach and chest. He's shuddering from the pleasure, nearly blinded by it, as he rides wave after wave. Through the haze, Andrew feels Neil follow him barely a half-second later and distantly realizes how long Neil must have been holding on to make sure Andrew came first. He feels Neil pulsing inside of him, twitching and throbbing, and if Andrew hadn’t already cum, he knows this would have definitely put him over the edge.

When he comes to, his head has dropped to Neil’s shoulder, and his left hand is gripping Neil’s tightly. They’re both breathing heavily when Andrew finally rolls off Neil's lap, his thighs aching pleasantly. 

He crushes his face into the sheet, ignoring the dip of the bed as Neil gets up off it. It feels like seconds later, when it really must have been minutes, that Neil is back by his side, clearing his throat. “Andrew, I want to clean you up. Yes or no?”

Andrew makes an incoherent sound. 

“Andrew? I need an answer.”

Finally, Andrew manages to scrape his head to the side and choke out, “Yes.”

Even with his consent and the warning, he still flinches when the warm washcloth first touches him. Neil lays a soothing hand on his back as he finishes the job without comment. He squeezes Andrew’s hip gently to get him to roll over, humming as he takes care of his stomach and chest as well. Then he tosses the washcloth in the hamper and looks bemusedly down at the sheets. 

“We’re gonna need to wash these too.”

Andrew grunts before sighing. Then he rolls off the edge of the bed and begins hunting for clothes while Neil strips the bed and remakes it. He finds a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants for himself and another pair of underwear and a t-shirt for Neil. 

The two of them dress and then flop back down on the clean bed, exhausted from the small movements. 

Andrew lifts his head to find Neil staring at him. Their eyes meet and hold in the silence. 

Andrew is the one to break it. 

“I’m not signing with the Chicago Pistons. Too fucking cold there. But maybe somewhere Northeast, like Pennsylvania.” He rolls onto his side and faces Neil. “When we go apartment-hunting, we’ll have to find somewhere close to an airport because I’m not driving 40 minutes to pick up your ass.”

Neil blinks. He blinks again. Then his face splits into an enormous grin. “Can it…can it be near a park?” he asks shyly.

“So that you can get mugged on one of your runs? I don’t think so.”

“I won’t, Drew, promise! I’ll only go when it’s daytime. I’ll even carry one of your knives if you’re worried.”

“Who says I’m worried? Maybe I just don’t want to deal with the inconvenience of identifying your dead body later.”

“Not sure you’ll need to,” Neil snorts. “They’d have to be blind to fuck that up.” He motions down at his scars wryly.

“Shut up,” Andrew scowls before pressing him down and kissing his mouth hard. 

When they pull apart again, Neil smiles. “Ask me.”

Andrew knows what he means. He swallows. 

“Will you stay with me?” he asks quietly, his tone serious as he stares into Neil’s eyes.

“Yes,” Neil whispers and ghosts a kiss on his cheek. 

“Yes,” he whispers again as he reaches forward to brush a kiss at the corner of his jaw. 

“Yes,” he says for a final time before sinking into Andrew’s lips, the kiss passionate and comforting, a truth and a promise all in one.

They kiss for ages, mouths melding together until someone starts banging on the door, startling them. 

“Are you two done fucking like rabbits yet? Some of us would like to eat!”

Neil squeaks, burying his red face into Andrew's shoulder for a moment.

“Fuck off, Day!” Andrew shouts back. He grabs Neil's chin before diving back into kissing him again. 

“Come on, Andrew! I’m fucking starving.” Kevin huffs out a breath when this statement is met with silence. “Screw both of you then! I’m stealing your car keys.”

“Touch my car, and I will kill you with my bare hands.”

“You’d have to drag yourself away from Neil first,” Kevin’s tone is amused, and they can tell he’s smirking. 

“And you’d have to figure out how to pick a lock since my keys are in here,” comes Andrew's bored reply.

There’s silence before some quiet cursing. “There are other ways to start a car,” Kevin threatens darkly before they hear loud footsteps walking away.

Neil snorts. “God, he’s such an asshole in the morning.” He slips out from underneath Andrew, snagging a clean pair of jeans and hopping into them. “Come on, let’s go before he convinces himself that he can figure out how to hot-wire your car.”

Andrew groans, shoving his face into the pillow one last time before he gets up off the bed. He catches the shirt Neil throws at him and drags it on. “Remind me again why I kept him alive,” Andrew growls as he shoves his arms into his armbands. 

Neil blushes before he quietly says, “Because you would never have got to meet me otherwise.”

Then he holds out his hand to Andrew. 

Andrew stares at it before he slides his hand into Neil’s, lacing their fingers together. A slight thrill races up his arm at the simple touch, and he watches a smile take hold of Neil's face before he smothers it quickly. 

Andrew uses his thumb to stroke Neil's hand lightly as he murmurs, “Hmm. I guess that will do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: So...you purposefully extended this out one more chapter so you could write some smut for them.  
> Also Me: Um...yes.  
> Me:...*judging*  
> Also Me: It's what the people wanted!  
> Me: Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed my last bit of self-indulgence! 
> 
> I have had so much fun with all of you over the past couple of months! I can't tell you how grateful I am for all of your support, your lovely comments, and the sheer joy of being able to share this work with you! You are all beautiful, amazing, lovely, wonderful, fantastic human beings, and thank you so so much for taking time out of your busy days to read this! I am so humbled and grateful to each and every one of you!
> 
> Work has literally been kicking my butt as of late, so I'm going to try and get caught up on a bunch of comments that I've missed the past couple of chapters - I've been reading them all diligently but have been so focused on getting this piece polished for you guys that I haven't had time to wrap back around. So that's coming! 
> 
> This won't be my last work for sure- I've got a ton of other ideas and rough drafts currently in progress so I hope I'll see a lot of your lovely, familiar faces soon! (Digitally/metaphorically speaking lol). 
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://knickknacksandallthat.tumblr.com/) if you like, and chat soon! 💞😊😘


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